


Four Swordsmen

by TrashBirdMan



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Dark, Consider this fic in its own separate universe, Drama, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Other, really not that dark at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-02-18 14:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashBirdMan/pseuds/TrashBirdMan
Summary: A story about the Swords of Justice, the awful world they live in, and their just as terrible friendship.





	1. Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a its own blog. If you have any questions you'd like to ask me, or want to see some occasional art, it's here: https://four-swordsmen.tumblr.com/
> 
> Updates will be in two chapter dumps on a monthly schedule.

 It wasn't on any earth where this dreadful place stood. This land was somewhere nobody would visit lest war was their first language. Two ideologies under their banners of black and white quarreled here for eons. One will have to triumph over the other eventually, but the bitterness of defeat has become the norm and victory was never permanent. The only certainty to both sides of this struggle was that they had to win, they had to be the ones to escape.

 They were on the side of good, beneath the command of the humble soothsayer and her sequestered Kingdom of White. Forever just, warriors of the truth. Facing them across miles upon miles of burning pastures was her lesser half: Zekrom, the knight. His doctrine was clear as day to anyone who feared his wrath. He desired change, nothing less – nothing more. If whatever he shall invoke would rip the worlds asunder, he would do so. This was his nature, and that is why he must be stopped.

 She wasn't being paid nor housed here to mull over their enemy. She, a swordsman under the Seer's wings, hadn't seen a single coin for all her troubles. As if anything so frivolous mattered in this world. The closest they had inside the castle's wall were runners who traveled from across worlds with supplies strapped to their back, yet there were no vendors to speak of; however, so long as she saw this battle through and the seer followed through with her promises, she'll be rewarded in far more than just riches. She'll be back home any year soon. Wherever home might be. The place had become a blur. Year after year of her toils were doing something to her, and though she hadn't suffered to the extent of her brothers in arm, the mind was a different. That said, she wouldn't have remained here for so long if there was no reason to stay. Even if it boiled down to keeping an eye on the sorry kid.

_Someday she'll leave with him. s_ taring through a glossy window at a land sundered a thousand times over, the swordsman reminded herself, _If not home then anywhere but here, this was no place for the young._

 The glossy hallways, windows, and posh gardens here didn’t serve this world any justice. Beyond their glossy isolation was a horrid place where the sun was fire raging through a the lands, scorching anything it could. The skies were a storm, cracking stone and creature alike with furious lightning. There was nothing to this glassed world other than atrophy..

 Horrible, all of it. This was the life she resigned herself to. The most the swordsman could do was keep her head high hoping it would see its end soon. The day is soon upon them were they must enter to the wastes once more in the armor they could never doff. At least the little soldiers could afford to take a breather, because she was stuck with hers. It may look initially uncomfortable. Her armor was nothing other than the bark of a great tree, tied together by spruce, and covering most of the quadruped's body. She was used to the tight armor it felt like nothing. Even if it meant looking akin to a four-legged tree with ivory branches strapped to its horns, it was the only reminder she had of home. If given the choice she'd probably still wear this ugly thing.

 “Hey! Hey Virizion!” Called a voice.

 This little fellow came plodding along, skittering on its back legs. He was a fiery creature with a helm strapped to his dome. He stopped just about a foot or two away from nearly burning her heels with his constant head-for-a-bonfire. His helmet, the only bit of shielding they were willing to give out to these poor sods, was charred to a greasy gray color after the flames on the fire-type's head scorched through it one too many times. At least it wasn't warped, he'd never get a replacement. The quilava must be fairly new, then.

 “You wouldn’t happen to ever see the big bastard fight, have you?

 Big bastard? That’s a new name for someone old and a name they'd only use for the likes of the Knight. The courtly swordsman took a pause to think of something more graceful than bastard. Unless picking up on hearsay and studying some local tales counted for witnessing him, then no, she's never seen him in battle. It may have been tempting for one of her colleagues to blurt out yes, but she instead spoke in honesty.

 “No, I don't think I'd ever want to.” she answered as a look of concern crept over her features, “Were you not with the last troop that went out? I thought you were only looking for somewhere to fort in the storm.”

 “We was supposed to. There’s nothing out there other than rubble, fire, lighting and more lightning. I’m still wondering why they even sent us, but I can't blame them for wanting to build an outpost out there. They probably just wanted a better eye on bi- _you know who's_ guys.”

 As he began to recount his tale Quilava stood on his back haunches slumped, and weary, but keeping himself together. Rarely do scouts ever come back with anything of merit, so far be it from the new guy to keep himself from trying to spurn together a good story.

 “The one thing we've found out there was a ruin, one lucky enough to have a roof over it's head if you'd believe that.” the further he delved the more white his cheeky face went. “That’s about when one of us points out something wrong about the storm, yeah I know, it got even stranger than usual. I swear the winds got so rough I saw chunks of the walls flying off like they were peeling off a berry.”

 Unlike her, the scout adored the bombast. He was ready to turn this very real story into something she'd hear from a bard's mouth she imagined her colleague would once frequent. Clearly the lad was attempting to sound more brave than a scout had any right to be. Maybe he’s trying to get knighted, she's certainly not going to vouch for someone more cut out to be a charlatan storyteller than a proper baron.

 “So there had to be a cellar back in this old temple. We start digging for it, getting the big guys to do the job while I sit a fair way back lookin' out for us. Just as I about turn my back all of us feel the storm get even angrier, and when just as we've begun to humor the idea of getting out of there our friend's there! Fully armored, crackling lighting, everything!” he balled his tiny fists, making just as small punches against the wicked air “One by one this guy goes through everyone! I watched him rip arms off, and if that didn't work, he made people into dummies just by throwing them against the walls!”

 Even if he were light on the details, she wouldn't dare to imagine the horror. The idea alone of the Knight, yet alone anyone tearing through men with their bare strength was terrible enough.

 “Anybody strong and brave enough to take him on would only get one good swing in before he'd shrug them off and beat to a pulp!” he folded his arms, trying to seem stout despite quivering like a pup, “He waded through us like he was walking through a puddle. Only when he swept through the lot of us did one we realize somebody had to make it back. I don't know how fast I must have ran to get outta there, he probably didn't even care about me slipping away as I'm guessing I'm that unimportant.”

 It hit as if somebody pulled a lever in her head. Why was he the last one left, what's with the sudden change in orders? While keeping tabs on the Seer's men was far from her duties, it sounded too off for her tastes. Virizion gaze went from worrisome to as stern as a boulder. He was right in the thick of his impressive tale when he glare caused the fire type to shrivel on up and freeze, his eyes looking mighty afraid for someone who of course, had nothing to hide.

 “You tell me all of this just to say you ran away?”

 “No.” his eyes flashed to the distance and guilt kept them there. “My boss called it on – a retreat. As I said, somebody had to get word back, right?

 “What of the others? I haven't seen him fight before, but you can't have gotten that lucky.”

 “T-They didn’t make it. Look, I'm sure the Seer would vouch for me, okay?”

 “And waste her time?” she spat. If the Seer were here, or if any other the swordsmen were here they’d run this sod through a scolding so hard he wouldn’t walk away from them with his dignity intact. Fortunately for him she didn't quite have the heart to tear apart his life. Never did it entail that she _had_ to show any of that mercy.

 “Firstly. If you wanted someone to give your story merit, you'd have asked Cobalion.

 Invoking the elder’s name had struck a chord in the tiny charlatan, one that made him quiver, and shake his head a hundred times over.

 “Secondly-“ she was about to berate him when it occurred she might be able to get something out of him. “Never mind. How about if you answer a few things I won’t consider having you banished. Does that settle well with you?”

 He nodded once more.

 “Good.” she continued, “I can't possibly understand him more than my superiors do, but from what I’ve been made aware the Knight he doesn’t go attacking with careless abandon. I find it hard to believe he would descend on you like that.”

 “Look, do you want me to go back to the pail where I had to clean all the stuff off?

 The Knight was known to never brandishing a sword. It was doubtful Zekrom ever had a sword to his name. He was clever, and quite deceitful. Contrary to what his title may entail, he would sooner get into his enemies' heads than cross arms as it meant less warriors for him to face. He was far more wily than any of them would want to believe. Need she remind herself that he has put up a challenge for the Seer hundreds, or possibly thousands of years now. Unless the Quilava wasn't talking about any ordinary ruin out in the storm, it was far unlike Zekrom to be thrown into a bestial rage.

 “You said there was a cellar you found beneath a temple. What could you have found down there, if anyone has even managed to step in there before the Knight allegedly appeared?”

 He became still, silent. The fickle one would've probably crumbled after quivering so much. When his flames began to flare brighter than before, Quilava suddenly steeled himself “Look.” he answered without a smidgen of humor to be heard. “If I don't know, then nobody does, okay? If it's so important than there would've been more than just us, you guys would've been the ones sent! Maybe I just got in the way of his own plundering, I don't pretend to understand him. I'm just happy I didn't join the rest of my buds.”

 Shouldn’t he have known what he was digging himself into? He was there, ordered to go there no less. He would at least be around to hear the briefing. Alas, the fire-type looked as if he were barely holding up to begin with, anything close to a gentle shove would have the strength to make him snap like a twig.. Much as she would want to hear more from the mouths of the people who went there, or perhaps see the place herself, seeing the possibility of a discovery dangle before her eyes was bordering on infuriating. If either of them spoke of this the quilava would get shaken down, and banished for his perceived cowardice. Her own frustrations weren't worth this dolt's livelihood.

 “Go along.” she sighed, “I don't want to hear you talking about any of this.”

 After bidding his obligated bows, his feet skittered along the floor like insects as he rattled down one of the keep's hundred corridors. With the silence and the sun beating down thought those opaque windows, her company was little. If no one was present to overhear their little discussion, then hopefully the Quilava would be wise as to keep it that way. She shouldn't have let someone like him run off. Terrakion, Cobalion, Keldeo, anyone of the other swordsmen would've had him turned in. The latter would've only done it to get in good standing with the rest of their quarter, and the former would've been too drunk to do any arrests and have the guards do the work for him. Barring Keldeo, everyone of them would've told her to pull her weight around some more. It's a good thing they won't ever need to know.

 Speaking of the particular brute; there's a certain cellar she'd ought to check now.

* * *

 

 She knew the place well what with it's stench and the portcullis just past it. The wine cellar, the furniture storage, if any army decided to raid this back end of the keep all they would find is garbage before any sleeping guardsmen. That's probably why he was always back here, out of sight, out of mind save for anyone who wanted to grab a steal a quick drink or went to fetch a new table the guard quarters just a hall over. While people pretended to knew where his exact spot was, checking the basements of the keep was a good place to start in general. So either out of courtesy, or fear he might smack them in his drunken stupor, it was common knowledge to stay far, far away from the basements. It was good then she never feared him. Terrakion was just as much her responsibility as was Keldeo, and she wasn't going to let their whole group become out of hand because one of them didn't learn how to handle themselves around ale.

 A door in the quiet corner of this keep lead downstairs, its railing as rickety as its rotted steps and the shadow of a lurched figure displayed prominently against the bland stone walls. A horned beast was flipped on its side in a peaceful stupors, its shadow breathing in and out in heavy, unconscious swells of bad breath. Terrakion passed out. Considering he found him asleep in a room chocked full with wine, it was obvious to anyone with half a brain to spare. He's gone off and done something stupid again, probably harmless in the long run, but they had reputations to keep and she's already spent too much time dallying when a meeting was on this very eeting. Much as she'd want to leave him to his alcohol-infused dreams, there were more important things they both could be doing right now than sleeping on a basement floor.

 She wasn't going to waste anymore time standing at the door to the dungeon so she traipsed down, every plank in those shoddy boards squealing beneath her boots until finally her heels clacked onto the solid floor and that alcoholic stench seared at her nose.

 “Terrakion!” she called, but his dreams muffled her out, “Alright, fine.”

 She looked around for anything to disturb the beast. While she couldn't find a pail of water, as pouring a keg of wine over a drunk's head would only result in them slurping it all up, she found a much noisier alternative. An old metal shield had found itself wedged behind a cabinet. Without hands to wriggle it out of there she scooped it up in her maw and let it drop to the floor with a wrought iron thud.

 “I warned you. It would please us both if you could just get up right now.”

 Of course he didn't.

 In a pace slow enough to torment a snail, a narrow, ethereal blade was summoned from her forehead then dragged across the packed surface as the screaming metal and showing sparks was enough to get on the nerves of the person causing the racket. For the drunk and the drowsy,it sounded worse than thunder. So be it that Terrakion thrashed over and over until he climbed onto his side, a headache throbbing behind his heavy orange eyes.

 “You know.” he slurred, his voice coming to, “If you were anyone else I'd throw one of these barrels right at you.”

 “Explains why no soul ever comes down here. That is assault, you know.”

 “Self defense.”

 “Defending what? The mareep in your dream-ranch?”

 “And there's nothing wrong with that!”

 "Actually there's plenty.” she was about ready to get into lecturing him, but she abstained, “Come on now, nobody wants to see grow fat."

 “I can name one or two who would.”

 He finally straightened onto his hooves after his initial stumbles nearly threw him to the ground. Terrakion's horns were more jagged than bovine, quite devilish in all actuality, yet in no way anyone would find remarkable. The Bull's armor was nothing short of noteworthy aside from the few orange cloths tufted between chinks in his chain mail and sections of carved, strung-together stone. He especially refrained from wearing any bright reds, not because of any instinctual hatred towards the dreadful shade, but because one too may jokes about him behaving like a tauros was close to putting him on the edge. After a while, his round wingless helmet and orange plaid just stuck.

 “Like who?” she asked, genuinely curious this time.

 “Like master” he sloshed together an answer behind his child-like glare, “-and Terrakion.”

 “You're referring yourself in the third person.”

 “Who are you tryin' to impress with your big words, the runt who holds the books for you?"

 “He's very thankful of his work, I'll have you know.” she nodded her head to the creaky old staircase, and retraced her steps out of this den. “Now hurry up before we have to worry about Cobalion chewing up the both of us.”

 Invoking the elder's name wouldn't do any good when he stared at someone who considered him his best friend, but it likely probably made the difference between the recovering drunk either coming or staying with his keg-shaped friends. All the way up the stairs she waited for him just around the bend, keeping a careful ear out for her friend down below. There as a sigh from the depths and it wasn't long before his feet trampled upward towards her. He seemed more enthusiastic than his far-gone self usually was.

 Terrakion caught up with his friend rather quick, not as if Virizion had gotten far anyways. She'd taken a head start, reaching down a hall or two she when she slowed down enough so the lout could reach her. The only interesting thing occurring in the halls was the chat between them two, otherwise it was the same pearly interiors and folks marching on unison. She'd never call this place eventful, and it was best it stayed that way. There were few times in the day where these halls would be otherwise occupied, but it seems to her they had wandered in at a good time.

 She was told to meet master by the old garden, the usual place. It was akin to a giant dome more so than a illustrious garden. A sight to impress, sure, but she hadn't seen an honest garden in ages. The forests in the world were nothing other than gnarl trunks dotting charcoal hills. Green, unless it was on a banner or cloth, wasn't just a color to be seen in this world. Suffice it to say Verizion had the habit of sticking out like a sore thumb, a fact she became used to as no number of good deeds was going to make her flowery hues seem normal in this world; assuming this realm was made of normal make.

 “That's some weird sh-sh.”

 “Yes Terrakion, you can say Shit. Keldeo isn't here.”

 She about readied for a tidal wave of vulgarity when he saw the brute hesitate. To her surprise he didn't begin spouting the worst words in the book. It seems he must be coming to his senses.

 “Yeah, I meant shit. Weird Shit.” That was about the extent of it, letting it out must have been quite sobering for him,, “If I were Zekrom I wouldn't have left anyone run off like that. It's real easy to cut an idiot dead when their back's to you; especially when you're ten feet tall and able to tear people in half.”

 They reached the end of the road. A tall, wooden door stretched to about thirty feet height, nearly as high as the corridors themselves. She lifted up one of her hind legs and rapped against it. One, two then three knocks it took until the doors began to creak open as a cacophony of sounds roared around them. A mixture of wood wrenching, the stone beneath it cracking, and old metal bits displaying all displaying their wear in discordant fashions.

 “It still strikes he as odd there wasn't a fair fight to be had, fair by Zekrom's standards, anyhow. I have my reservations about the person who told me about this, but I think he was at least smart for backing away when he had the chance, Zekrom wouldn't have considered him anything more than a nuisance. I just wish I'd know what happened there.”

 “Sounds like this mystery man of yours doesn't even know, that or he's hiding something.” he didn't seem to care, and that was better than seeing him mad about the fellow, “Still! The guy was free game! It's stupid to let a scout run off, and if the knight's that dumb then we wouldn't be here for I-don't-care-to-know-how-bloody-long! Sounds like he ain't telling you everything!”

 The mechanical nature of the doors finally creaked themselves open. Personally, she never understood how these things worked. One theory spoke of some fancy gears, others claimed it was all smoke and mirrors for a few pokemon manning pullies far underground. Still, all of this was arcane to her. The latter is what she would tell Keldeo, because frankly the notion was laughable to hear. As long as it let certain people in and out, and others from never getting in, then for all she was concerned it did its job. Beyond it however, was an area so impossibly vivid it just about burned her eyes looking into it.

 The sky of the garden waas nothing than a painting scrawled onto a surface they could only surmise as quarts, and its bright blues were a pitch away from being white as wax. Clouds, if they could be called such, swirled behind the fogged light in inscrutable formations. A large marble floor traveled through the false haven, making corridors filled with flowers upon flowers of the same pear-like shade. Suppose all the color fit the Seer's image but it didn't aide in making this place feel any bit more real. The air; the aroma of daffodils, it has always felt too real.

 Verizion hadn't much time to think, but perhaps her disgust at it all focused her thoughts down to an answer. She took one good smell from the air then wrinkled her nose as she glanced at her rocky companion.

 “By leaving one alive, he could be sending a message.”

 She continued onward, walking somewhere between the two floral rows but never too close to the center. Following her padded footsteps were the thumps and rattles of the warrior trailing closely behind. She eyed the scenery, making it an active effort to keep her head straight but falling victim to the daffodils. Sooner or later she's going to have to take a gander.

 “A message?“ Terrakion huffed. “Why couldn't he have sent a red letter instead?”

 “I thought you hated red.”

 “Thought you didn't want me talking doom and gloom, because If you want to send a message, then pulverizing everyone's a pretty good way!" 

 “That in lies the problem. Nobody would be around to send it."

 All the gunk in his head must have finally flushed away, because after he blinked one too many times, he clued together the obvious. Verizion on the other hand already had her head down, her muzzle face-deep into a daffodil which looked to her more fresh than the hundreds around here. When she lifted her head back up, she took a quick look at her surroundings then eventually at Terrakion minding his own business. Today seemed oddly calm. There were scarcely any people here, fire-types less so. All the flaming people were off on their own lane, chatting among themselves with no mind paid to the regal warriors striding through the flowers. Either they had a fascination for nature as well, or knew to keep to themselves. She'd like to think she wasn't the only person who cared for these things here.

 “Not all of these are fake.” Verizion smiled, lifting her head from the bushes, “I think there's more real ones than usually.”

 “You'd have to be dumb to think any of these were real.” he said after inhaling his share of the scent, the swordwoman's smile just about making him turn away in disgust. “Somebody could die out here, and you'd never smell it for months”

 “The Seer could always be using perfume!”

 “Bah!”

 “-or incense.”

 He glanced around.

 “I don't see any smoke.”

 “Then some of these have to be real, how else would she get that smell?” she rolled her eyes, nudging the warrior's side as she began to press on, “Do you really think a truth-speaker would plant anything _this_ fake?”

 She said that to confuse him. It nearly worked, for his eyes shot to the ground in what deep thought they could possibly muster and his breath went still as a statue. “Now what's that supposed to mean?” he asked, bewildered. When he managed to catch a look at the smile persisting over her face, Terrakion's knew to drop the whole thing, ready to look like he was about to run back to his cellar, but there was still enough humor behind the thick skin of is to take it in stride. She could swear she maybe saw him smile for the briefest of moments before his boots chugged onward, his head held as low as the damns he could give.


	2. Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the rest of the family.

 Contrary to the maddening peace and quiet which had come to characterize these gardens, their far-off corner was quite the contrary. Blades were swung, armor was rattled. The screams of metal clashing against metal bordered on deafening. Make no mistake it sounded impressive from the far, sure, but what was really happening was a far cry from impressive.

 Somewhere in all the flowers was an isolated square where the glass-like ceiling domed over the circular place. The flora here was scarce compared to the flowery walkways. The only thing which came close to decoration here were the giant steps leading down to the plaza which were nearly four times larger than they needed to be. It was big even for the tallest of the swordsmen, but other than being an unnecessary leap of faith there wasn't much to read from the odd architecture. The white marble and the flowers of the same shade, the skies and painted glass, this place was surely evocative of its creator, but the occasional visit from some tired warriors was the extent of the care the garden received. In spite of this the plants had never wilted, the stone remained pristine. The neglect has yet to rear its ugly face. It was out of the way, all that the swordsmen wanted. The right place for them to spar undisturbed

 The two swordsmen already there were the apprentice and their master, both of whom locked in faux combat. Keldeo, the youngster, put up a fair match against his master but was otherwise overpowered without so much as him trying. None of the young warrior's strikes could even so much as put a chink into his master's mail. Getting to the old coot beneath all the steel was way out of the question as not only was the foe's armor durable, and the skin underneath was tempered with thousands of old scars, the Master had training where he did not and the fortitude of many years to shrug off the most harrowing blows. Even if the old man's tactics could be boiled down to knowing what he can take and what he couldn't, the swords wouldn't recall him of master without reason. He knew if he could sooner wear his opponents down, then there was no need of him to draw his sword. His tactics hadn't yet failed him.

 Thought the younger fellow was swift, as untamed as a rapid river, no number of strikes could account for the kid's lack of precision, but make no mistake, he wasn't talent-less. The kid knew where to strike and how, and had the finesse to make it count, but the sword in training was always one step behind his only ever opponent. Other than the problem of throwing himself against a steel wall, the real problem on his hands was his own doing. His technique, no matter how much he wanted to think himself a genius for charging head-first, swinging his sacred sword about a dozen times a second, it was never going to work. One would think after being through this song dance a dozen times now he'd learn his lesson, but he didn't. Keldeo planned on today to be the end of his failing streak; so far however, it seemed like he was doomed to repeat himself.

 Cobalion physically towered over the young sword. Keldeo was dwarfed in both size and prowess, yet the little fellow stood strong, relentlessly battering against the steel wall with maybe every one out of a dozen hitting true. After his recent flurry had done nothing, not even a scratch, the apprentice put all he had left in him in a last attempt. Where it would seem he was picking up speed in order to throw himself against Cobalion yet again, by galloping on his four legs past the elder he took him for surprise, even more so by immediately doubling back. In a desperate ditch the kid threw himself around, leaping to the air to go straight for the master's scruff with his blade.

 It hit more true than any previous attempt. In fact he had managed to wedge the sword his right ht between a chink in the armor less than inch wide. The pride across his face was gone the moment he realized getting his sword unstuck, which was a horn attached to his head like the rest of the swordsmen, was going to be quite the pain. He couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet, the sod was dangling well over a meter off the ground! As quickly as he'd gotten himself stuck however he was dislodged as his master's powerful shoulders checked him aside. Keldeo fell to his side with a thud, seemingly defeated.

 “Call it a draw.” his otherwise noble and heavy voice weighted threefold, steeling his breath between his words, “Be careful next time, you're difficult to keep up with. I was worried you may have come close to getting one of us into some real trouble.”

 After a rough landing like that, he was slow to answer. Keldeo had to get his bearings together. He was tired, his whole body hurt all over, his feet especially. Perhaps he shouldn't try zipping on a dime like that. Keldeo's bright red hair was ruffled into a ball. He looked like dirt, and the hard fall hadn't done any good either. He might just have to sit here for a bit.

 “You haven't knocked me out, but it isn't like you look too good either.” Keldeo remarked, seeing the fatigue in his master's amber eyes, “I don't think we've even had a draw before. Is that a bad thing? Don't tell me this is just a way of saying I lost again.”

 “What if I were to tell you lost?”

_Awful._  the apprentice's voice betrayed his thoughts, “I mean, I did get pretty close.”

 “Well you lost, and so have I” Keldeo's heart nearly skipped a beat, “If I were you and this were a true bout, I'd take this chance to flee and get myself back together for the next one.

 There was a mixture of confusion and general weariness between them. Cobalion's methods of seeming stoic were as numerous as his sword techniques, whether that's by controlling his breath or other subtle methods, he never showed an inkling of exhaustion when someone like Terrakion would lumber himself around. He had no reason to believe all of Cobalion's persona was a guise. As Keldeo's been told countless times before by him: showing weakness in battle could very well lead to a person's own doom. While they may never have anything to hide from each other, it was strange – almost worrying to see the normally unbreakable man show any shred of tiredness. He couldn't have hurt him that bad, surely he was used to this. Never in the moment did occur to it might be something else.

 Cobalion looked about him, eyeing the backdrop as his heaving quelled itself to a steady crawl. He was the tallest among all of them, sure not the largest. Unlike Keldeo's lack of, Terrakion's carved stones, or the barks of ancient trees strewn together with twine, he was the only one among them to receive steel. Glazed in a dark, navy shade, his fluted armor covered nearly every part of him save for his puffy collar and boots which were sewn with padded cloth and leather respectively. Out of their quartet, he was sure the most presentable. He had to be; he was their leader after all.

 A sigh left the old man.

 “You really need some rest. We both do."

 Keldeo didn't have the sharpest of eyes for sentiment, yet he saw their maw as the first words of something began leaving his master's tongue. The thought of what the old man was about to say wracked him, but before a word could sleep it trample of heavy feet in the distance cut him off. A blundering set a feet, and a gentle jaunt traisped behind it. They didn't even need to look back to know who had stumbled upon them, as Terrakion's voice was dreadfully familiar.

 “I'm starting to think I'm missing out on something every time I find you dummies here.” the gruff, nigh gravely voice of Terrakion called from atop of the massive stairs, “The plants aren't real, the sky sure isn't. If you wanted to look at fake things I have some pointers.”

 “Like what?”

 “Your hopes and dreams.”

 Were jokes supposed to fall flat like that? Keldeo wasn't sure if he should laugh or scowl at him. Instead, the kid kept his head down to the ground, stuck to the floor like a fallen log He'd ought to be furious with Terrakion, his brash words hardly knew bounds. He said things without thinking and when he bothered to think over his words he only did it to think up an insult. Sure, he didn't mean harm by his cutting words. He just hadn't gotten used to how often they hurt.

 “Yeah, you too.” Keldeo answered with a half-smile

 “Charming as ever, Terrakion.” Virizion had a tall gait to her, a presence a bit more refined than the rough edges of an apprentice and the master's snarking companion. She brushed companion's glares aside to address the others, “Off sparing again, are we?”

 Cobalion stepped forward “Yes.” he sighed, taking a brief glance at Keldeo, “I do know there's no short of chambers or barracks around here, I just prefer the silence of the garden. Would you believe we two – now four are the only people this way?”

 “They must be busy.” she answered. “Don't know if you're aware but it's always been hard to find time for yourself in these parts, due in no part to the conflict of course. I think the four or five people we've seen through here are taking a break between orders. As for me, I'd rather spend it somewhere else.”

 “Like where?” interjected the brute, “If you don't mind lightning, I heard the storm can be really nice at this time of year.”

 “It may not be the worst time.” spoke the elder. “There are patterns to it, I'll have you know.”

 “How do you know that? Isn't it supposed to be chaotic?”

 “Can't say.”

 “Keeping secrets, huh?”

 Cobalion restrained his smile

 “I'd hardly call a medoicre lie a secret.”

* * *

 They gathered in the circle, the astute Virizon standing by the many rows of false flowers while the curious apprentice stood at her side. Terrakion had wandered amok until he finally settled by the railings overlooking a false cliff, and the elder remained in place. Usually the youngster would either hang with the ranger, or their wise master. When he was new to this weird place nobody would let him escape their gazes, Virizion especially. Over time her strict nature was whittled away as a sense of trust grew between them, but a precedent was set, and he didn't find himself brave enough to tread beyond the time. So most of the times everyone had gotten together he was along side her, including now. Meanwhile Cobalion was always stuck in the middle and Terrakion would pretend to pay attention from far away, but never too far.

 “So, my old man” spoke the boulder, “, you going to tell us why dragged me out of bed?” Though it wasn't the elder who did the deed, it was his order to have everyone gathered. In Terrakion's eyes the old man was more to blame than the kind and loyal Virizion. Something he couldn't really express with the constant scowl he had over his rugged face.

 “If given a choice I'd still wake you up, if only to hush you over to a bed. I'm never happy to find you sleeping on the floor” Cobalion replied, “- but I don't think the soldiers care enough to wake you, so I had to send Verizion. At the end of the day, I don't think I could blame you. Anyone of us would rather choose a cold floor over more responsibilities.” he paused, glancing over the circle expecting a comment from the lady but she was otherwise preoccupied with her botanical dealings. Cobalion sighed.

 “We have new orders.”

 Like if it were a magic word, the would-be botanist pried her nose out of the floral curiosity and looked upon them with her fuscia eyes. She stepped a fair ways towards them, leaving the young swordsman to watch on as he took to occupying himself with the work she left behind. Keldeo was just happy they hadn't booted him out yet under the pretense of “work talk”.

 “I wouldn't liken their numbers to a base, but a few of our long-standing friends have settled camp too close for Reshiram's comfort. “ the fact he mentioned the Seer at all sure made it seem more important than what it was, “Its expect us to drive them out of there. I wouldn't have raised my concerns about letting all of us go, but-”

 Within a second, the careful swordsman threw her worries loose “Why are they sending us as supposed to a small troop?” she looked towards Terrakion, “I can argue with you all day about whether they do their job well, but why is it us in particular? I wouldn't hold it against me to question divine authority; however, these orders don't strike me as sagacious.”

 “You're sayin you know more than her?” Terrakion grumbled.

 “No.” she shuddered, “I don't think I ever will."

 “Remember we were talking about messages earlier? Yeah, well I think that's what she's doing. We're strong, certainly better than what the knight's slapped together, so we go over there and beat them them stupid and then hopefully they'll double-think their next camping trip”

 “If they were outside our front doors, then couldn't-”

 “-the guards would turn them into pincushions. You expect them to be waiting outside our front doors for us to sign their flags?” his looked away from the ranger to turn to Cobalion, tilting his head in thought, “They don't expect us, right?”

 “They would have to be blind as not expect some sort of retaliation, but I doubt they think the Seer would send all all of us upon them” he continued, “At most they will be ready for what Virizion proposed; a group of warriors their size and their class. While it seems like a very roundabout way of sending a message, I see your point.”

 Verizion looked aloof, the despondence in her eyes was palpable. As much as it would've been better for her to stifle herself as supposed to feeling the rock-type's wrath, she was fretful, too curious for her own good. Terrakion's ways of taking everything at face value, and running along with it for what seemed like pride more than the seer's recognition got on his nerves. Cobalion knew better than anyone how to lay down orders between them, so she wasn't worried about Terrakion suddenly going on a tirade. She was sure they could handle themselves against a dozen or so men, she just wanted a straight answer for once.

 “Does anyone here think this seems a bit crass?.” the stares of her friends felt like daggers on her back. “The best warriors under the seer's ranks are about to descend on some camp of fools who crossed some imaginary boundaries. It seems worryingly excessive. What if we spark a retaliation?”

 “I've gotten away with worse.” Terrakion scoffed.

“Yes, yes, we know. But something has to be going on here." she looked over, "What do you think, Cobalion?”

 There was a moment of deliberation from the old one. If they hadn't known him well they would've taken his silence as indecision, but the old man kept his head level. The man never failed to know what was best for them. A trait his apprentice held with strong admiration.

 “I cannot say now, but we have tonight until tomorrow morning to think about it. Surely you will have settled this come noon.” he gave the two stern glances.“Your thoughts are always appreciated, but if you feel up to disobeying orders of the highest accord I don't think I need to tell you the consequences of treason.”

 Verizion slowly nodded, Terrakion kept his mouth shut.

 “Fortunately, I'll be giving each of you a head start” he began his leave, kicking his heavy boots up the stairs.“You are all dismissed, if you feel like continuing this conversation you may find me catching up on sleep somewhere other than a cellar.”

 Outside of business the other swordsmen were as close as any friends would be after untold years of fighting alongside each other; although, when it came to talking through their battles there needed to be someone to settle matters between them. Cobalion was the constant medium while Virizion's instincts were to prod at bad nerves, Terrakion's were too impulsive to let her little questions aside. Thankfully, they hadn't once come to blows despite the many it times it felt like they were about ready to jump eachother's throats. She'd ought to keep her hands away from his buttons; he's ought to control his temper. Rest assured they were friends, but usually good friends had no need to worry about the other beating them over moral quandaries.

 First left the elder, who strode out of the gardens to probably collapse on his bed over home. His particular corner of the keep was somewhat messy for a person who seemed otherwise collected. For all Keldeo knows, he might've cleaned the place as of late, but he didn't seem like the person who would square away his precious time for cleaning up something someone else could do for him. What he did remember was Cobalion being particularly offended by the young knight's remarks about the mess last time he visited the messy little cabin, Whilst Terrakion did have his quarters in the keep, he never used it. He'd always mosey around everywhere until he found his place sometimes in a cellar or sometimes in a dining room. He did find him in the rafters this one time, could never figure out how the bumbling man got up there. Maybe it was a cruel punishment by the one person who had complete control over him, but he could always jump down; which he did that time, and used the dining hall's table to break his fall.

* * *

 While he could theorize where they went all day he didn't expect the others to go far, he'll find them – moreover master if ever he found himself wanting to poke his nose in their operations. The two who were left in the strange garden were searching for a reason to occupy themselves. Virizion found hers in poking through the daffodils.

 “What's with this place, anyways?” Keldeo, who had spent the last while staring at an a bed of white petals looked across the circular square and called to the sword-woman, “I didn't find much talking about this place in the readings I did, and I really didn't want to poke through your stuff because of it. Asking around didn't work too, so thought I'd uh, ask you instead.”

 “Well there are plenty of reasons why this place bothers me. “ she took a moment away from constructing mental note on the peddles to humor him, “Is it the fake flowers, the sky? I find the lack of color to be strangest of all.”

 Keldeo looked disgusted as he stepped away from the very bush he had spent an hour shifting through but he knew he shouldn't be took quick to judge these innocent flowers. When he took a second glance, true enough, while a few had managed to sprout through the abundance of fakes like stubborn little weeds the vast majority weren't real at all. Almost as if he were going into the motions of spitting on the blasted garden, a stream of water fed from his mouth and into the soil below. While the water seeped everywhere, the majority landed upon the fabric pedals, somehow absorbing the water before it could reach the ones strangled at the bottom. What were these things made of, sponge? It made him feel weird for even trying to water them.

 He hurled what was left in his throat back into the bushes before he turned back, shock across his face. “You know what? Everything about this place rubs me the wrong way! The flowers, especially” he stared down at the pristine floors as thoughts came rushing in. “You know I have a few of these in my room, right? Have I just been watering a white sponge this whole time?”

 “Maybe.” she answered. “I think the scent comes from perfume, and their texture some sort of fabric. The real things would have some wear on them, tiny holes from wurmple, signs of both care and neglect. When anything looks this nice, I can't help but feel strange standing next to them.”

 “You quite liked the ones over home. I really didn't want to tell you.”

 He wouldn't have known if it weren't for her. They complimented the small window in his chamber so well. It was perhaps the only decent looking thing in his chambers aside from the shells from lands afar. All this time he had known the bright white skies to be an illusion, yet he childishly clung onto the hope his flowers were as real as the ones Virizion spoke of where in her homeland. Now, just thinking about their white petals made an awful feeling churn in his gut.

“You lied to me.”

 For a moment she hadn't quite known how to answer him. The silence was long enough for Keldeo to go back to eyeing the bushes before she cleared her throat and spoke in a clear drawl, walking across the plaza to eventually join his side.

 “Because you never asked.” she'd hate to lecture him, she didn't want to feel overbearing, but she did lean over and brush the fellow's bushy red hair with a foreleg. He wasn't exactly smiling, “Terrakion doesn't like it when I badger people questions, but I think it's for the best sometimes I'd rather know then than find out later. I thought you'd have ask me sooner.”

 “As for the flowers, you're welcome to throw them out. Who am I to tell you what do with your room?”

 They were still nice, they still complimented the fake skies behind his window. They were flowers in every sense other than having fabric for pedals. In hindsight he shouldn't be fretting over some plants on a window, those were things people like Virizion should be worrying about as supposed to him. The only thing it meant to him was a sign he should find more interests other than his one fondness for the sea. His quarters had become a beachhead, home to whatever water-logged oddities he managed to through favors with the supply runners. Maybe he'd be around long enough to visit the sea someday, but that day seemed far, far off.

 “No, not now.” he shuddered thinking about what watery mess lurking beneath the old clay pot, “I'll wait until I find something nicer to put in their place.”

 “Like what?”

 “Like a cool sword, some surplus the littler guys left behind.”

 His head went racing for whatever things he thought would be 'cool' until they slowly gravitated to his admiration of his armored master. The battles he's gone through with Virizion at his shield and Terrakion as his sword were stuff of stories. He bet to himself if there was anything of a martial sort he'd want his best chances was on anyone other than master.His voice suddenly shifted, and he shrunk to a begging level as he turned to asking.

 “You guys go out on a lot of missions, don't you? Ain't you headed out tomorrow?”

 “Not as many as Terrakion would hope. “ she was reminded of him even more as she continued, “I don't set out to trample on your dreams, but we don't go out warring as much as hearsay would have you think we do. I can't help to think they paint us out to be barbarians sometimes.”

 “That's not a bad thing, right?” thinking about earlier, he made sure to ask “Was I supposed to be listening on you?”

 “Bring it up with your master. I know you're trying to say something to me, so you'd better say it."

 “Well I heard his knights had funny helmets, full covering stuff, and I've seen a few of them.” he looked on with optimism, “Don't think you could bring one of them home, like when you leave tomorrow?”

 Her chest puffed then fell as a heavy sigh traveled through her, leaving her nostrils as her eyes shut themselves away to deep thought. Sighing was Verizion's go-to of expressing disappointment without seeming too infuriated about whatever the kid's been doing. While he's never seen master become furious with him, Cobalion had a thicker skin than Terrakion's skull. In this case, the only thing Keldeo had found to be frightening about her gesture was whether she was building up to something terrible or just doing it to keep herself together after he spoke blasphemy.

 “We usually turn in whatever we find out there to Cobalion, whose job is it to decide what to do with it after giving it the final okay.” it was protocol, whatever that word was supposed to mean. Why they couldn't say law at first boggled her, so later it became her go-to hand wave for Keldeo's foolery. This time, she refrained from using the infuriating phrase.

 “We've stopped picking up things unless we find them exceptional, there's not much time for plundering out there and the act of taking from the fallen makes feel, well..”

 She didn't go into it, she'd already done enough to parade over Keldeo's day. Virizion quietly sucked it up before giving the young sword what he really wanted to hear.

 “I'll consider it, but please curb your expectations. Understood?”

 He shook his head yes as he whispered “Okay”.

 It was clear to her they've spent too long out here, more so when those lights overhead began to change as the blues between the clouds became the faint glow of purple. She wondered what this place may look like during the night. Did it look the same, were there constellation? Stargazing wasn't a hobby anyone had here. The thick clouds of the storm covered every inch of the sky, the night was no exception. Not as if she cared to stay to find out. She abhorred these gardens like no other. Now was simply a better time to leave than ever.

 “Let's get going “

 She motioned with her head, beckoning Keldeo to follow as she hopped her way up the giant stairs and into the gardens while Keldeo trailed shortly behind..

 If there weren't many people here at the start, then there was practically nobody here who wasn't already on their way out through the big gates. A couple of the would-be gardeners remained for a seconds at a time, taking last minute combs of the supposed flowers, then leaving well before they could cross the two swordsman. In theory, this behavior would make it seem like they're rolling out the carpet for their best warriors, doing all they could to be courteous to them without ever taking a knee. When really, she didn't have the words to describe how strange it felt to have men to suddenly vanish the second they walk. Were they sick looking, were they really that scary? Of course he knew it wasn't any of that nonsense, she's had enough confidence to look in a mirror every now and again. The only sickness going around these parts was homesickness. As years of working under the seer's wings would do to a person.

 Everyone here was hired in some capacity, maybe there were even some gardeners on the back burner who she wasn't aware of. That included her, the swords, and perhaps Keldeo. Contribute it to his young age, but if he had remembered anything concrete prior to his arrival here, he'd be as downtrodden as everyone else. Frankly there wasn't much time to even say hello to the swordsmen when everybody they have ever met was as dour as the next person. Besides, they've been through the song and dance of bows and greetings a hundred times before. If this was the Seer's court it'd be a different situation entirely.

 So when they crossed people only for them to stop what they're doing to leave, nobody would've bat them an eye. The second one person among the dozens they passed by chose to stay, it called for pause. In the corner just before the heavy doors to the keep was a fire type, alone and watching Keldeo move under the shadow of the swords-woman. They were smaller than him, had nothing to him other than standard gear, but carried a look to his eyes he couldn't quite ignore. They wanted something, they just couldn't say it aloud.

 By time they'd gotten to the entrance, the curiosity had been nibbling on him like a swarm of little bites. He looked to Virizion as they saw the door's great arches looming overhead, then back at the fire-type who's embers flickered in the dark. He should know better than to keep his nose out of things, but the scent of discovery was wall too alluring.

 “Hey.” the apprentice's words made her halt, “I'm going to stay back here for a bit.”

 “For what?”

 He looked at the two rows running through the gardens, filled with pedals both fake and true, “Just gabbing some of the real ones.” he quietly replied.

 Verizion smiled and went on her way. In her absence Keldeo watched the heavy doors grind themselves shut, stopping and leaving a crack wide enough for a line of warriors to march through. Keldeo was alone now.

 


	3. Ch. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off by a couple days, it didn't occur to me to pose these. I have another month of stuff drafted before this moves into new territory.

 Keldeo felt as if he's seen this fire type moseying about before. The Quilava's demeanor was what made him stick out, as his scorched armor and unassuming stature made him out to be an insignificant cog in the Seer's army. It was an accepted idea to never become too attached to any of the guards. Keldeo had been unfortunate enough to learn it the hard way – same as everyone else, but initial impressions were all these people had unless they had made a name for themselves out in the battlefield. The swordsmen had it lucky when it came to fame. He'd ought to consider himself fortunate for being a part of them, even if it's due to having no other place for him. Not as if he had a choice though. The Seer was keen on it.

 When the echo of grinding mechanisms screamed to a halt, and the doors were as close to closed as they would be, Keldeo looked across from the gardens and the flowers under the faint blue light to a servant who did his best to hide his gaze by looking as if he was staring at nothing. Clearly there was no coincidence. Nobody would want to stay around here after dark unless they were hoping something to happen. In spite of Keldeo's better instincts, any possibility the quilava was up to no good was tossed aside the moment he decided to stick behind. Curiosity, general boredom and a lack of eventful duties in the keep drew Keldeo towards the lonesome fellow.

 The clacking sound of his hooves traveled far where wind, whispers and dueling would've silenced his stride. In the false night there was no noise, no insects chirping in the weeds, no winds blowing above them, just whatever alien sounds hummed from the hallways. Be they gears working beyond those doors, troops occasionally marching down the hundred halls, altogether muffled by a forest's worth of wood strewn together into a colossal door. Whisper in here and everyone in the gardens would hear it. If there were anyone hoping to spy on an unwitting apprentice not only would it be easy, but it the gardens were so void of sound he'd likely hear them as well.

 When he approached the fire type they had gotten all fidgety. The quilava's hands began to tremble like he had just gotten out of cold ocean. Nerves notwithstanding, it was a surprise to hear him try to explain himself

 “You um,” his voice stammered a conversation together “keep tabs on what happens around here? Like who goes in – goes out, all that?”

 He reminded him of how he used think he looked when prancing around with the swordsmen. Except he didn't have the charisma of a board. It still remained a dumb question to ask to the apprentice of, and the supposed child of the swordsmen, yet alone the swords themselves. Amused and a touch baffled, Keldeo answered pridefully.

 “Yeah, I do!” unless the scout was about to sweep him off his feet with random trivia, Keldeo was by far the master here,“Don't pretend you can get any secrets outta me, though. It isn't my job to know what they're up to. That would be Master's.

 “Sure you do. Like anyone like me's ever gonna know what you guys are doing behind closed doors. Couldn't even reach the handle if I wanted to try..” Quilava huffed, his eyes locked onto the gargantuan door, his ears twitching as they scoured for noise, “Your friends, the swordsmen who were just here – they went back home, did they? They off to sleep?”

 He coveted privacy in a place everyone knew better to traipse into. To say it seemed odd to Keldeo would be an understatement. The fire type was hiding something behind his rambling, and the apprentice intended to find out. He was more than happy to lend the fellow an ear if it meant he'd spit it out sooner as supposed to later. Nobody wanted to stay here for too long. If anything it was a welcomed change of pace compared to the bleak day-to-days of living in the Seer's keep, and this realm at all. He'd take talking rumors as opposed to training.

 “I wouldn't say home, unless you're talking about here, then I think it's more like work? Verizion makes sure to talk about home as if it were somewhere else,” he doubled back, seeing nothing in the fortress' interior other than vacant halls “They're not here right now if that's what you wanted to know. What did you want to talk to me about? You're acting all funny.”

 Quilava smacked the top of his mouth then stood high on his hind legs and crossed his paws over his puffed out chest. The fire-type shamed his eyes to the ground as he mumbled secrecy. It was about to be a long time.

 “I went outside, into the store. I'm a scout, but it's never ever mattered before, but this time it so happens that I stumbled onto something I don't think I'm smart enough to even explain.”

 “Why you telling me this then?”

 “Because I gotta know.I saw something weird at the bottom of some temple out there, I don't wanna know what it is and I'm never gonna sleep good till I do!” his voice raised “I tried talking to Virizion, but I'd rather not get my arse kicked out of here.”

 That sounds like Virizion alright. Usually she didn't go around telling people what to do and what not to unless they were young like him, but it was a comfortable thought knowing he wasn't the only one here subject to her lecturing. Either he had to have done something incredibly stupid to rattle the nerves of the amicable swordsman, or what he saw was that important, life changing even. Keldeo immediately became intrigued.

 “I mean.” Keldeo thought of all the people much more qualified than him, like Verizion herself or any of the swordsmen for that matter, “You could ask Cobalion. Master's pretty wise. He'd probably help you more than I will.”

 “And get chewed out by him? Why'd I want do that?”

 “Yeah. Let's not bother my old man. What does this have to do with me anyways?

 “You're one of the swordsmen.” no comment form Keldeo there. After the last bout he was beginning to doubt he'd ever be part of them, hearing it from someone else – if unintentionally, felt somewhat uplifting, “They don't care where you go, or what you do unless you could be doing something important. You guys got authority around here, and I'm just nobody compared to you. So I was thinking maybe you could do somethin'.”

 Thinking to all the places he could go: outside in the storm, to The Seer's court chambers, to storage cellars chocked full of real-world coinage. There were plenty. It just never occurred to him he may have walked into forbidden grounds during the nights he'd spend wandering the keep like the bored kid he is. No one has yet to tell him not to, but scared he might get thrown in a cell, or worse: exiled, he's since put a stop the habit. It wasn't worth the trouble he'd get into, but he somehow knew the entire keep inside out for that wrong reason alone.

 “I don't know what you wanna do, but getting into trouble is something I don't really want to do. If you think Virizion's bad she's actually nice compared to what I heard Master could do when he's upset.

 “No, no!” Quilava threw up his innocent hands “You wouldn't! If you're allowed to go wherever you want, then who's gonna stop you? I wouldn't dare to try.

 “Yeah, you're right.”

 Funny thing was, he's likely the only person who could get away with snooping around. He's young, he's done his fair share of wandering the keep before. If anyone was on duty guarding whatever it was, who would harass a kid who just wanted to take a peek at something? Verizion had express permission to access any information, Terrakion just intimidated his way through everyone, and Cobalion likely had something similar to the ranger. This could Keldeo's shtick; although, it was bound to be short-lived.

 “...I still don't know what you want, though. I'm going to be bored anyways, but I'm kinda your only way of getting there, and I can't do my job if I don't even know what I'm doing.”

 “I'm not going to make you steal something, just for you to dig your nose into some books for me, right?” the Quilava slipped a hand under his chin, scratching away as his thoughts raced together “Look um, I still don't know what it was I found out there exactly, but all I can say it was yellow, bright and beyond a door big enough to fit two of you sword guys. Trust me, I'm getting a headache just thinking about it

 What could be worse than these abandoned gardens with their false skies and flowerbeds chock full of deceit? Well he'd reckon somewhere that sounded suspiciously like it would be a close second. The problem there was this was only an eyesore, but whatever that place was sounded like a migraine waiting to happen. It sure didn't sound like anything Verizion has mentioned before, and usually she's the gatekeeper of knowledge around here, in addition to being with the swords who may as well call the storm their home. In no way did he feel comfortable with the idea of poking through things which had no reason to belong to him. Reading through those massive tomes Verizion would consume in a day seemed possible, just really close to it.

 Which it begged the question: where could he possibly look to find out about this anomalous headache? He wasn't going out; he wasn't busting any hidden banks in the castle walls just to read up on this. There was always the possibility - honor be damned - about asking somebody from the outside world. That alone wouldn't be an easy task, he could pull a favor from one of the runners to do so, but he didn't exactly know anybody from anywhere other than this torn world. A dry, hopeless feeling began to well in the curious apprentice's throat as he looked to Quilava for an answer.

“Where should I start?”

* * *

 Terrakion did what he usually did to prepare for the journey by heading to the barracks when he could very well use his own equipment and taking what he needed only then actually head back to his room to take his horns to a grinding wheel. Then it was a toss up of whether or not he'd sleep in his real chambers. Such a means of getting his equipment together drew many a scowl over his years of working under the Seer's wings, but it was of little concern for him. Usually the types of things he'd take would become lost anyways. A good canteen, and one of those wax-like blankets they used to fend off the lightning were all he ever looked for. Finding both in his size was a pain.

 Of course he wasn't taking anything of importance like swords or armor, but it wasn't like spares were in short supply. Anyone who was hungry for steel was free to take from the plenty of abandoned suits and swords out in the battlefields to forge their own things, and that they did – a lot. It was more effective to reuse things in that way. Many of the fire-types under the Seer's command were trained to go from swinging a sword to making their very own on a dime. What they did struggle with however was supplying helms for everyone. They had a tendency to become charred over, making the precious winged helms into something representing a roast psyduck. Buffing the scorches out only did so much, and painting them white again was frankly silly. Why the Seer had such ridiculous standards in the first place was beyond his understanding.

 The Knight's men on the other hand had no such problems with equipment. What they wore did it's job, and aspired to nothing; however from the equipment he's seen throughout the years none were as roughly made as the ones the Seer's enemies wore into battle. From their tactics to equipment everything they did, the Knight's Warriors tended to have this crude effectiveness about them. If they weren't supposed to be enemies he'd admire their work, but any smith would find it the opposite. Their enemy's strange usage of melded together metal was an insult to a craft, yet one which seemed to work for them.

 After exploring a fair ways through the keep he found the place he was looking for. Formerly a dining hall, these barracks were fairly large with extravagant glass windows and checkerboard floor which now belong to a troop of measly guardsmen. While he could take from anywhere, Terrakion had his preferences. The stretch of this keep was the quietest, practically run down. It's argued whether it was a great quake which ripped through here or an planned assault; nevertheless, a decent-sized wing of the keep had crumbled. This tiny section was all which was left. The conversion into a barracks was rough, but whoever was behind the renovation made it an effort to keep the many old facets clean, and kept their more muddy affairs to the carpeted quarter. When Terrakion creaked open the wooden doors to the chambers he found few men inside, and those who were present had gathered themselves to a corner of the room where they sit on their bunks in a ring, pilfering rumors among themselves, of which was an zangoose who stood fairly tall for a creature of his stature.

 Assuming it was another guard coming through, the gathering paid little mind their doors slipping open. Probably someone coming to collapse in another bed. Now was Terrakion's chance to go on with his day. He glanced over to their little setup: a grinding wheel, a couple boxes, a few swords on the rack. Eventually honing on a barrel of ale and an empty water skin sitting slumped over the keg. As silently as a boulder on four legs could possibly roll, Terrakion stepped forward. When he got there he flipped the barrel onto his side, scooped the waterskin around his scruff and carefully nudged his way to the open door. Only when he was halfway through his return trip was he given a reminder of how deaf he'd become to the clacking of his second-skin.

 “Every time you walk in here, you sound like a pile 'o bricks don't you know that?” the zangoose's voice was as grating as sandpaper, “Shouldn't you be doin' something other than stealing drinks?”

 “I should” he retorted “but shouldn't you be watching our walls? Seems like you've done a terrible job before.”

 "We're off shift!” relented a guard.

 “And I could easily throw each of you back onto if If you don't learn to shut your mouths.” 

 Terrakion stared the tallest of them right into his red eyes. The rock-type's glare followed them as they shrunk back into their post, sitting back onto the wooden stool with his head to the floor, grumbling like a brat. Temping as it might be to start lashing out of them, it probably wasn't the best to get in a blows with his own allies. Even if they were, for a lack of better word, jackasses. As the wooden doors creaked shut behind him he rolled the keg along feling overall miserable as usual.

 "They're going to drive me crazy someday."

 It would take a lot more than a couple insults to get him to that, this was the norm, and Terrakion had become rather used to everyone hating his guts., He's grown to have skin thicker than his armor, but his habits among other things made speaking to the Seer's servants a real pain. He'd come to associate all sorts of horrible words with the guard. These little run-ins were no short of infuriating. After this he felt about ready to bash the closest thing be it a door – person, whatever it be. His anger had built itself to a fever when he passed around the keep's dozens of corners mentally prepared to “accidentally” a fifty pound barrel to whoever found themselves walking down the wrong hallway. After he saw who was clanking down the hall, needless to say Terrakion decided against letting loose his rage.

 Guess if the clanking wasn't a dead giveaway then it was the sound of his spurs. Just as he passed around the pillared corner he came face to face with Cobalion. The stunned look of the old man reflected across Terrakion's face as he quickly holstered his rolling weapon under his heel. There a very long moment between the two warriors where neither man wanted to explain himself. Why had Cobalion come to this lonely part of the keep, why was Terrakion rolling barrels of ale around the day before their mission? Being the smarter one Cobalion buried his curiosities and spoke up.

 “Fancy seeing you here.”

 “Yeah” Terrakion sure wouldn't have said anything like that, but suppose it fit the bill, “You doing something important? Because if you're doing it back here I can promise you there isn't much. There's nothing in this wing other than stores, a couple of idiots, rubble, and if you're lucky – nothing.

 “It's not all too important friend, else I'd have gotten Virizion or some other a servant to come searching.”

 “Why you always making Verizion do all the dumb shit, like finding me?

 Terrakion cocked his head to the side. He teetered the barrel back and forth between bouts of questions. He presumed Cobalion had been tasked with some sort of drudgery involving getting those fools back there back into fighting form, but the rock-type hardly stuck his nose into those manners unless he'd been told to. The old man was better at showing face anyways, and he'd like for his friends to do the same.

 “We know each other well, but when it matters she's better with you than I,” he sighed “If my memory holds well, the last servant I told to fetch you mysteriously came about an hour late, I don't think he even checked the cellars at first. Maybe I'm partly to blame for letting them leave without much guidance, but I like believing our men know their heroes much as we do ourselves.”

 It's hard to remember they were supposed to be the swordsmen - the best of the best among the Seer's forces. Their occasional battles mattered little in the long run. The last of the last battle after however many years these war took place, that was the one which mattered the most. There's surely more room for heroics; however, he didn't find himself gaining any fame in or outside of this world. He'll be happy if anyone remembers his name years from now. His pride came from his service to her.

 “I don't blame them, they can't stand me. I still think you're giving those little bastards too much credit. We're about the only ones who matter in this war, this whole army thing seems a bit redundant if all that's needed is for the Seer or Zekrom to get the other's throat. It's hard to even remember their names when they seem so worthless.” The old man's expression went as cold as his metal skin. Clenching his teeth, and wanting nothing of his master's ire, he continued, “That's probably why they care more about you than me. Wouldn't have anyone else to tell me what to do.” well, other than the seer of course “At least you bother to remember the little guy, right?”

_"Right._ ” his response was stern, seemingly indifferent. He took one, two steps past the bend and squinted his amber eyes down the short corridor, “Did they say anything to you?” he asked without doubling back

 “Yeah, they did. Doesn't bother me.”

 “I don't need to guess. It seems to me it's the talk of the guards.” he paused, “Do you ever think they can't be all wrng about you? I won't speak ill of you nor any of us swords, but I'll be the first to admit it's hard to tell with you at times.”

 He wouldn't bother to hear out the rumors floating around about the rock-type, but his friend couldn't be all wrong, talk of the town wouldn't have stuck around so much if they were based on something unfounded. Pardoning his habits, where he slept, and his general inability to present himself like anything other than a slob, there had some be some truth hidden in the stories about him. If looking like an idiot was his job then he was very effective at what he did, never mind his role as the might of the swordsmen. More often than not he'd be the one responsible for the most foes slain whenever he and his companions descended on the seer's enemies. That should be a good thing, shouldn't it? Here was when his awful precedence the rock-type had set for himself came around to bite him. Whether or not he was as thuggish as to be believed, he made excellent fodder for anyone looking to trash on another pokemon. They weren't right to do so, but Terrakion wouldn't say they were definitively wrong.

 There were more people than just him involved in these things. In most raids there were the soldiers who'd come with them, and scouts who'd partake much before and afterwards. Of course he knew why people would go out of their way to point fingers at him over thee dozens of people involved. He could easily shift the blame onto any of his other swordsmen and live without as many people whispering behind his back as there are now, but why would he ever do that to his fellow swordsman? They were the closest people he's had to friends or family, and so long as his memories fail to hold true, they will be. The conflict inside of the sword must have been apparent as Cobalion would soon speak up instead.

 “You shouldn't let them get the best of you, you're more loyal than most of us here. I know you take Verizion's word to heart often, but she's more of faith, having been of service to another legendary far before she was inducted to Reshiram's forces. The guards on the other hand, don't have a good reason to be this way.” his eyes shied away for a moment, and a slight twinge pulled at his features “Just don't ever think yourself worthless. Reshiram hadn't brought us here for no reason, and I'm sure yours aren't as valid as mine. I still don't know why Keldeo is even here.”

 Guess the old man was right. They're probably just jealous, or something. It was a childish thing to believe about a group of people, but it hadn't stopped the thought from being any less comfortable. As his mind began to wander as was the feeling their run-in was meeting it's natural end, his thoughts found themselves on the curious little apprentice. He as an oddity to say the least. Virizion had the heart to raise the fellow where Terrakion quite didn't. Children' don' nexplicably show up to this world, no one ever does. It wasn't his duty to ask, but he'd hate to let the chance slide.

 “I guess you're right” he murmured, then slowly spoke up, “Now that you mention the kid, I've been thinking about him for a while? You ever a reason why Keldeo's even here, like who even put him here in the first place? I like to be irresponsible sometimes, but I hate to think some mom out there would be dumb enough to drop their kid off here of all places. Like I'd take it up to the Seer if I wanted to, but you and I are smart enough to know never to bother her.”

 “Virizion has her theories. She responsible for asking these questions, so if you must ask somebody I am not him.” Master could be trusted to know little, and what he did know about Keldeo helikely forwarded to her, “My responsibilities are to train him, and to keep an eye on him when Virizion is busy with her other dues. I'm too old to rot my mind over mysteries.”

 “Yeah, and you've sure done a decent job. Saw what you two were doing back in the garden. But can't we just find his home and send him back? I don't think Verizion wants to be raising a kid here, either.”

 “You seem to forget we're in a bit of a tussle with another legendary.” he retorted “If you want to call a thousand-year-war a tussle - I think it more of a tragedy. I want out of it too, but we are close to the day we must battle with him, and if we manage to beat him off we'll need new blood like Keldeo to ensure the Knight will never succeed.”

 “but you have anything else you'd like to ask, I don't think I would be able to answer them.” he cleared his throat and straightened himself out. The short-lived gusto faded away as he began down the halls in a dutiful stride, “Should you be brave enough, I would bring it up with your seer.”

 He knew that already. When he any worrisome questions on his mind he started with Virizion, then Cobalion, and if all else fails for him he could take it up with the lady herself. Keldeo was out of the question when it came to looking for serious answers to grave questions. Besides, he didn't think the kid even knew where he's from. If his worry about the kid became so heavy it kept him from preforming his duties then by all means it would be a good enough excuse to bother their leader, assuming somehow she didn't know the kid's origins she may be able to lender her power to find out the truth. Alas, why would she ever bother with a lost kid? Didn't she have some important legendary-things to do?

 As for what Cobalion was up to. He realized he missed his chance to ask when he heard a set of doors close somewhere down the halls. Probably training those idiots in the ballroom, Terrakion could only hope the old man was giving them a firm talking to and whatever else his disdain entailed. Not that there was anything else to do in this wing of the keep than marvel at the ruin down the far hall or quaff down a few glasses worth of a barrack's reserves. The only thing left was that same room. Most of what this place had been used for was plugged up by collapse and barricaded with scaffolds. The old ballrooms, commons and even a library down there had been effectively buried down under a wing's worth of masonry. If they wanted to entertain themselves there was only one place to turn to now. That stupid garden.

 Besides, he had more pressing things than stick his nose into the swordsman's doings, by which he meant spending his day and the following morning moseying about until they were tasked to head into the storm come tommorow. Terrakion began kicking his luggage along as it rolled down the marble floors, his heavy gait just as loud as the barrel's sloshing. He was in due for a good sleep after this headache. For once he was going to sleep in his quarters due to the virtue of them being closer to this wing, even closer was the court of her's truly.

 Corridors sprawled absolutely everywhere, winding and leading to distant places, but a person need only follow the main halls and they'll easily find their way to the four wings , of which spread out from the court at its center. An imposing, relatively circular wall surrounded the whole keep; excluding the cliffs. The east was where he and most of the troops resided, north had been more or less decommissioned when a quake or something had torn through the keep at some point . Back when they used to have visitors,the chambers to the south served as an entry hall and a formidable defensive position with it's many imposing doorways. In the thick of it was the seer's hall, court and the gardens further west.

 Unless he wanted to become lost in the corridors no matter which way he went along the main hall he'd eventually have to cross the pearly 20-foot doors leading to the seer's domain. As he went further and further homeward, weaving and rolling the clunky barrel around the many troops otherwise ignoring the buffon. Just as he'd quite reached the gates was when he particularly stood out. He was right in the middle of the four lanes. Home was only was a sharp left turn away, but when he stopped to take a breath his eyes found themselves drawn to the familiar double-doors.

 Standing there would only bring the attention of it's two watchmen onto him, yet he wasn't worried one bit. He'd come to know these two folks. One was the rare dragon-type of the keep, a seasoned gabite stood watch alongside her watchog friend. Despite the general ire he cast on many of the folks here, they came to a mutual respect of sorts. The three worked hard for their leader, Terrakion would argue these fellows more so. They came here every morning; rarely leaving their posts lest it were to eat all the whilst remaining as still and stern as possible. It was easy to mistake them for the dour sort as they sure seemed the part, but he knew the red-eyed watchman, and may or may not have told the fellow where to find a good drink to knock him out after a long day of paranoia-induced insomnia. Gabite on the other hand had earned her reputation just by being a dragon-type. Generally folks who from where she supposedly came from had to be hardy like her. The many tales he heard about malicious spirits roaming her homeland weren't entirely unfounded after she shown him one or two of her ghastly “trophies”. For a couple faceless warriors Terrakion knew them good – better than most people here.

 They were good at their jobs at least, they weren't allowed to even slack in the first place. The seer insisted on them being as serious-faced as possible. Sometimes they stood so still they could be mistaken for statues spiffed out in armor. In fact he was once told by Watchog that “If she decided one day to replace them with two replicas nobody would care to notice.”. Needless to say it was hard to maintain friendships when he only saw one when he trying to find new means of knocking himself out, and the other when she'd gotten herself injured. How? He didn't know. The question was if he wanted to trample all over a set of perfect records for some small talk, given they didn't have much else to live up to in this world.

 Beyond their doors was a what he'd liken to a court room if it were designed by an architect who had all the artistry in the world but only one color to their repertoire. It was the like the Garden, only somehow worse. He could already see the blinding light from behind the stone gates' seams. Doubt the Seer wouldn't even mind if someone if high status came in for a visit. Surely, she'd be willing to forgive one of her loyal swordsmen for badgering her off duty. He just couldn't help but find his one good alibi for bothering her to seem somewhat selfish, as if he's satiating his curiosity and his alone.. As tempting as it might be to walk in and ask some innocuous questions to a person on a divine scale there were times when they usually did that as part of a group.

 Maybe he owed it to himself to actually stop inside. There weren't many people in there anyways, and those who were he'd reckon were driven blind by the horrendous choice of lighting. If this tussle with an encampment were to become something bigger he may find himself with a face-to-face meeting. They might even decide to summon them here regardless to discuss any findings. The Seer was ineffable in those strange ways. The sword could only hope. Besides, he was ought to head home. Dallying here wasn't doing anybody a service and his steel-faced acquaintances a barrel-lugging disservice.

 


	4. Ch. 4

 Hard bread with not enough butter to go around to make it taste any decent, broth, and water - that was breakfast every day of the week for Keldeo. Everyone had to eat the same meal, so he wasn't alone in his unpalatable suffering. Those who were lucky, or unfortunate enough to be heading out were given salted meat to go with the bland buffet. Under very specific circumstances, certain accommodations had to be made for certain folks, but meals hardly strayed from the norm. It's why the main reason why they didn't keep many grass types around, the lack of any space for them to grow their roots would make them shrivel up, and the lack of sunlight wouldn't be too kind to them either.

 The swab of butter was the only thing making the hard brown bread palpable, and the broth may as well be warm water with little bursts of spices. When the groggy Keldeo was given anything other than that by one of the mons serving, it came as a nice surprise. A bowl of berries, rare among these parts to a point he couldn't quite recognize all of them, save for supposedly common oran berries mixed in with the other pink ones. Six in total, nice. Thinking nothing of it at the time, he mostly gobbled the meal down as quickly as he can. This hall was miserable, so was his meal. He just took a bite or two out of his bread, ate the berries as fast as he could then ignored the broth altogether as Keldeo slipped away from the long wooden tables and out the dining hall's beaten doors.

 Just as he felt he'd gotten away from the awkwardness of mealtime, he was interrupted the moment he stepped outside. All he wanted was to climb back into his bedding, but apparently someone must have other plans. He didn't notice the tiny messenger until the little thing peeped. The shadow of the hall's doors must have hidden it somehow, but in the Fletchling's beak was a note they simply left before Keldeo's feet as they plodded away, chirping along to every hop of their puny legs. With their clipped wings, it was all the messenger could do. He was ready to disregard the run in altogether, but he quickly had a change of heart when he read the paper's crude writing. The swords – not just his old man, all wanted to meet with him.

* * *

 Port after barred door, he made his way to the entrance all after having to cut four chambers to even get there. It was like one, overly long corridor. Each segment of this centipede was kidded with massive gates, boarding, and embrasures facing the next wall in the event someone might actually take a piece of their keep. There were about for 'mons manning each and every door, maybe twenty in total on his way outside. In times of battle the number would be somewhere closer to a hundred. Someone would have to be foolish to even try braving this treacherous tunnel. If anyone wanted so bad into the keep, they'd have better luck punching a hole into the walls even if there were dozens of fire-types launching mortars down onto him. The keep wasn't invincible; the old wing was testament to that, but he couldn't imagine anyone getting in unless they somehow started their raid from within the stone giant.

 The gates got heavier with each room, from mere wooden doors to the second to last: an iron wall with a dozen locks ready to bolt shut the moment anyone so much as taps the other side. The final door would seem fimilar to Keldeo as it was larger than any one of them before and made from a wood so old the paint had begun to peel off on this end, far unlike the gates surrounding that strange garden. Regardless of it's current state nobody was going to get through it right now as his sword-toting companions stood between him and the great unknown. Each one of them was suited up, not just in the armor they wore in day to day life but their helms and supplies bundled and strapped to their personage. Presumably after eating something better than warm broth, they all looked to be ready for the road. It seems he caught up at the last possible moment

 “I got the letter.” Keldeo spoke from the doorway, his body the wedge keeping open the steel plates, “Is it wrong to ask who wrote it, though? It um, looked awful.”

 An initial look of confusion fell two of the swords. Terrakion didn't take too well to having the kid suddenly get between his job, and Virizion had concern strewn all over he glare. They didn't have anything to do with this. It Cobalion who had called him here.

 “I know my little friend does his best, but I don't think I could do much better.” a laugh welled up from Cobalion's gut, as he glanced to Verizion expecting something. What he got was a blank stare. “I assume the letter has told you everything you need to know, has it?”

 “I don't understand what you mean by everything, it just told me to come meet you and Virizion.” he wondered if Terrakion had anything to do with this, but he didn't seem to, and when he looked his way the best the rock-type could do was nod back, “I didn't think you guys would be heading out so early, I almost went the wrong way. Did I miss something in the note? I could always read it again.”

 Cobalion sighs.

 “Since my messenger had suddenly forgotten to include some integral information, its best if I tell you why you're here,” the master's voice sounded fairly delighted for something so mundane, “You have preformed admirably yesterday. I will not consider you one of us until I see your full potential realized, but as of yesterday I have found you more than capable of defending yourself – if not striking at potential danger before you have to.. Having you hit an old steel tin over and over could only do you so good, so I have decided it's time you gain some experience.

 “You can't possibly be serious.” Virizion stole the words right out of the apprentice's mouth “He's just now learned to fend for himself, and you expect for him to head through the storm? He'd be marching right into a camp full of foes, same as us!”

 “I believe he can handle himself. I am the one responsible for training him, Verizion.”

 “That's different!” she retorted, “These people would be out to kill him!”

 Inside Keldeo was the desire to put one foot out into the world and follow in the stead of the swordsmen, to fight like them, and to earn his place among them – however he'll reach their rank. The horn on Keldeo's head was the same as the rest of the swords, he should be no different, but he was. Never once did he swing his sacred sword at anyone who other than his master. It seemed like today would be the day that changed. His master's respect was the be all end all for the kid. If he were to say he shouldn't accompany them on their dangerous voyage, then he'd stay here. It would be what the old man wanted.

 “If I put myself in their boots, not that theirs would ever fit me, but if I were to see the four of us running down a bend I'd get out the way because they know what's coming when they see us – right?.” Terrakion gave his two cents. “But let's say my boss is an idiot and he tells me to stick around so I can get killed. Me, being the weak little shmup I am, I'd go right for pipsqueak here.”

 “Uncle, you're right.”

 The brute looked surprised to see someone – even Keldeo - agree with him for a change.

 When seemingly all was said, the master his eyes and began to think, working out a solution in his head while the rest of them waited for his answer in a nervous silence.. The two other swordsmen had their fair share of points, but the wind howling behind the giant doors was temping, almost deafening in the absence of their conjecture. Keldeo had wanted nothing than to show he was someone other than a kid who they found one day. Better than throwing up against Cobalion again, he could watch all of them fight, witness their techniques firsthand; however, the dangers were just as loud as the kid's passion.

 As the ultimate authority under the Seer, Master Cobalion held a say over what was tasked of his swordsmen. The man had all the respect as to not abuse this power, but there was little in the way from stopping him from making it an order to have the apprentice be brought with them. The apprentice would like to think his master's silence was him deliberating every option, but what if he wasn't? What if this was soon about to be his first, mandatory journey out into what his peers had built up to be a harrowing affair. He couldn't possibly be considering it, could he? What's to necessarily stop Master from making his claim of knowing what's best for him? Keldeo didn't couldn't possibly know what the man was thinking or planning with his vast wisdom. As Terrakion's words began to dwell in the water-type's conscious, he realized how really was that he may just face the horrible world.

 “ _I'm staying.”_

 Cobalion shuddered, a gesture usually foreign to the stoic steel-type. The others watched on, Verizion with confusion, and “Uncle” with what seemed to be concern across his unyielding gaze. Before their leader had anything to say about this turn, Keldeo did his best to explain the sudden change of heart.

 “There's something I have to look into. It might be important to me, it might not, but it's something I had planned to do today.” the apprentice felt shrunk his way behind the gates, “Next time, okay guys?”

 The door shut, his master's word lost on the sound their iron crashing together.. The patter of nervous hooves from behind it became a gallop, then trampled off until the continuous whir of the storm drowned out the fleeing apprentice. Cobalion hadn't even gotten his word in, and after what transpired he wasn't even sure what to say himself. That said, Verizion had plenty.

 “You frightened him on purpose, didn't you?” she poised herself high, glowering towards the stone warrior, “I don't think it'd hurt you to be more-”

 “Subtle?”

 “Compassionate, maybe even a little sympathetic."

 The beast shrugs, adjusting the luggage strewn over his back by a thin rope. It was hard to tell if he was callous or sincere. The man's gravely chords had a way of making everything sound as if he hated nearly everything and everything. Clearly it wasn't the case; there were few things he loved. The voice must come included in his rock typing.

 “If you want me to say sorry or start explaining myself, I'm not giving you both. I don't think I need to tell you this world ain't sunshine 'n rainbows, and honestly signing the kid up to become a walking target wasn't the best idea in the first place. Your choice, Missy.”

 “I'll have to save it for when we return, I can't be bothered right now.” Cobalion had grown quiet. Assuming this was the master trying to make heads or tails of what happened with Keldeo, Verizion chaimed in, “I know he is supposed to be my responsibility, so I'm not going to count on you knowing, but what do you presume he meant by all of this? He's up to no good, isn't he?”

 A sigh traveled in though the master's mouth, then out his nostrils in a swell. Cobalion collected himself, straightened out his posture, and glanced back at his compaions. His expression wasn't much, but his voice was especially restrained.

 “I had expected better of him. That is all I have to say.” on that note, he ended the topic, “It is best we leave immediately. We'll have more problems than Keldeo being up to no good if we decide to keep Reshiram waiting.. We're packed, we're fed, and I'm willing to suggest Keldeo's done the liberty of locking the door for us. There is nothing for us to do other than embark.”

 The two nodded, and the swords readied themselves behind the door. The entrance was two fold, a fromiddable stone door with a charred portcullis on the other side. They head the sounds of ropes straining, and old gears creaking to life as many unseen workers went about their duty. Terrakion took another look at his provisions. He would have everything he needed to keep himself from becoming another one of the storm's victims. Most of the weight on his back was from the copious amounts of water he needed to carry. While being a steel-type walking through a thunderstorm had its own share of complications, Verizon wasn't so lucky. Wilting up on the spot seemed like a far-flung possibility up until it nearly happened, not once, but twice in spite of the Seer's protection.

 They each gathered their breath as the port opened up, and the gates began creaking open. The halls were flooded with a shower of sparks. A red, furious glow basked over the swordsmen, their breath nearly knocked out of them by the first gust of scalding-hot wind. Just as Cobalion had said, there was nowhere left to go but forward.

* * *

 A furnace would describe the weather well, and ruin was the only word to fit the landscape. The air was a miasma, the gales embers. If one cared enough they might find something among the ash and molten rock, begotten relics of people who had come here or things merely left here. The occasional sword, maybe even helmet were quaint sights to behold up until someone gets a blade in their boot. The loose earth didn't help in that regard, nor did the sky which didn't spare a beam of light other than bolts of wicked lightning. Nobody was expected to make it out here without some sort of guidance or protection from the Seer's fires, or Zekrom's wicked storm. They had armor, each blessed by the seer herself. Those who aren't so lucky will make do with what they were given. This land was already a lost cause, its only purpose today is a stage for two legendaries to skirmish. Unless this war was to decide the right to baron over this infertile land, something much bigger had to be at stake. It's what Virizion would rather believe.

 Even if they could undo the thousands – if not more years of damage dealt to this realm, she doubt she'd see a day where the lands weren't under constant assault. The storm and the fire raged with equal vitriol as they were both the gods' doing. If one stops, the other would continue to wage. It was too effective to even stop. Assuming they could put an end to this meteorological assault at any moment, the two legendaries would have to agree on something and that was just as impossible as leaving this horrid plane.

 The valley they had taken refuge in was familiar. They've used this narrow passage many times before. The narrow passage was formed when a terrible quake had occurred near the keep, presumably the very same one which caused a portion of the keep to crumble. Unbeknownst to them at the time, Zekrom's forces were attempting to stage a surprise raid at the very same time. Fate would be on the Seer's side that day, as the forces were cast deep underground by the quake where much of their old equipment remains untouched by the great fires. That's how the seer claimed it went. Her word was above all. It would seem the hollowed out and torn armors below told another tale; although, Verizion could never tell. Had she wanted to bring Keldeo back a helmet or other novelties she could easily have taken one of the hundred helmets and gave it to the kid on his return. These were far from fresh, covered in ash. If she wanted to bring her would-be son a gift it sure wouldn't be from this cavernous grave.

 In any respect it was still shelter. There were a lot more targets up above for the lightning to smite and the world's fires were too avaricious to search for kindle down here. It was safe, barring any defeat one might feel from resting at this grim site. This wouldn't deter her; however, it was hard to say for her companions. Their refuge was under a small nook in the caverns, enough to fit them all at standing height and wide enough to hold a scouting party if they felt like sleeping upright. Nothing would deter Terrakion from his tasks, but Cobalion laid an unusually long distance away, and was just as strangely quiet.

 It was impossible to see his face from here. It was dark anyhow. The only glimpses she saw of the troubled old man were flashes of lightning gleaming off his steel-plated exterior. If Keldeo were here they'd likely be having a chat with master. It nearly made her wish she hadn't said a thing about the kid's inclusion. Cobalion will work out whatever ails him, he always had. After a while of waiting for the master to speak anything or even look their way, Terrakion took a large swig of ale and sparked whatever conversation he could.

 “Place bothers me sometimes,” he voiced quietly, “it feels quiet. I can hear all the scary things happening up there perfectly fine, but – erm.. I don't know how to say it.”

 “I can't say I blame you. It's quite off-putting, it just hasn't occurred to me to bring it up.”

 “You can see out there, right?” of course she could, but he still pointed his head to the nearest remains. A hollow set of armor sit somewhere in the ashes ahead surrounded by bits of what seemed to be shredded, and melted steel as well, “The wheather usually doesn't do that. I know there was something like a quake which came though here, but I don't even think a quake does that to you. Usually there's should be skeletons or whatever around – remains, but there's nothing. It's like someone lifted their bones right out of their armor.”

 “I can't tell if I'm supposed to be terrified, or find the thought amusing.” Verizion's eyes squinted at the obliterated suit, Terrakion seemed to be right, “I agree, It's quite morbid out there, but what would explain the armor, then?”

 “I mean, if you drop something from a pretty far place, something might shatter, but steel doesn't do that very often” he glanced back, his large, jagged molars stuck out when he smiled, “I know from experience.”

 Sure he did.

 “I think we both agree it would be pretty difficult to shatter armor into pieces like that, bone, and leave next to nothing behind.” the more the talked about it, the further these invisible pinpricks traveled up her spine, “I'm starting to think that may be a reality. Exploding armor – that's new.”

 “I say our friend over in his castle wouldn't be against it. I think he knows we tend to re-use his stuff, sometimes. You'd think he'd try vanishing armor instead, or is this his first shot at trying the next best thing? Sure makes picking up his mess a pain in the arse.

 “It's not the stupidest thing I have heard you said. Tell me, how would he know about that? You're not going to tell me he has spies, and clever dark-types working for him too?”

 “Never thought of that.”

 Terrakion took another gulp from his waterskin. He came pretty close to drinking though his share of rations before he put a lid onto it, stuffing it back with the rest of the precious things. Verizion never liked the stuff; on the contrary, Terrakion never seemed to drink anything but. No matter how much their things got jumbled together in their travels, it was easy to tell which belonged to who.

 “I mean, he could always have them. If they're good, which I don't think he really has anyone as good as us, then we wouldn't suspect a thing. Still would be a nice way to smuggle things from under our noses. It'd be the worst prank I could think of, but it'd still get on my nerves. I don't think we have anything good to steal, and most of it's probably under that wreck. They got enough steel, they could afford to throw it away on stupid things like this. Zekky probably doesn't even care enough to try something that sneaky.”

 “Zekky” she raised an eyebrow, “That's a new name.”

 “Zekrom, Zekky, Knight – we all know who is. I like to call him fuc-”

 “Well! You're surely smarter than what you seem.” she quickly interrupted, “You have the wit of a general, sometimes not nearly as much.”

 “...yeah.”

 Terrakion nearly bumped his head on the cavernous ceiling when he perked up, and squinted his eyes over twoards Cobalion. He was still quiet. There must be something they're missing out on because he's been staring at the storm for what must be close to an hour. Maybe he was thinking the same bone-chilling thoughts as they were about some potential, armor-exploding and skeletal-stealing anomaly. Terrakion couldn't seem to stand the silence for much longer”

 “Hey Blueberry”

 “Blueberry?” spoke Cobalion

 “Oran you glad I didn't say Blue.”

 Nobody laughed, nobody even felt like laughing. The master stared back with a most deadly disappointment, such that Terrakion gave up talking on the spot. He went back to sipping his ale, well over the half he had rationed away for the first leg of the journey. Verizion, knowing who exactly he had gotten the horrible joke from, tried to defuse the situation.

 “I believe we're all set for the road ahead.” she peered into same direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of what might be, “We wait on your word, Cobalion.”

 With a heavy breath he began to move. His forelegs raked through the dirt until he pulled himself into the light. He stood, looking above himself, spending the last moments he may have quiet staring at the storm. Perhaps he was lost. It would take more than one person's change of ambitions to drive such a stoic man into silence, yet Cobalion knew there was nothing to hide out here, even stubborn old Terrakion knew to keep a secret when they mattered. Verizion knew the man well, not nearly as the other swordsmen, but she had faith that whatever was on his mind draw its natural conclusion. Although the question was still on her mind, Verizion held her tongue. It's best if she didn't prod.

 “How far is the encampment.” the master asked.

 “If memory holds true, it should be no less than a half a day due east. “her mental map was incomplete at best. Despite being the best ranger the seer could possibly have, these lands weren't made to be trodden, “If it's where I believe then we could make it there by dusk. It would be the perfect time to stake them out. I'd like to know why they've decided to camp a mere day away from our home.”

 “It shouldn't even matter,” Terrakion spat, “If they're stupid enough to come here, they won't find us sneaking up to them, We could jump them right as any sane person should be changing shifts.”

 “Do you think a few scouts are going to pose such a great threat to us that we have to behave like a band of bandits?”

 “They never did.” the brute looked away from Verizion to his master, determined to prove his boast, “Doesn't matter how many we off or scare away, long as we the important-looking ones alive, right?”

 “It would seem it would be the usual, then. I was hoping to have a break from pummeling everything, alas enemies are enemies.” Figuring it was the best she could get out of the warrior, she looked to Cobalion “How do we know who to spare?”

 “Anyone who surrenders, and should any carry a flag, then them as well..”

 “I thought they were just flag bearers, people to head out with the traveling bands.” she thought aloud to the two, hoping they might stir up the pot with her. “I didn't think they would be so important other than knowing the way to our friend's keep, but I won't know until we get there.”

 “Single them out, make sure they are captured immediately.” Cobalion reiterated, “We will never find out until we do.”

 His answer was swift, concise. Cobalion knew what he was talking about. Without any extra comments from Terrakion, the conversation ended there. The master nodded at him, and Terrakion immediately knew what was up. He slung his back off his back, then pulled out a large burgundy cloth from it. Its texture was off, like it were covered in wax, yet stretched in ways no wax-drenched sheet would allow. No matter how it was supposed to work, it helped against the storm. Steel-types, the particularly tall ones, had to wear that over their heads unless they wanted to become free-roaming lightning rods. Which funnily enough, was exactly what these “flag bearers” are supposed to be.

 With it draped over Cobalion head like a cloth coif, they all were ready to head forth. They walked in formation: Terrakion being the first in line to answer to the enemy, Virizion in the middle, and the old man watching them far in the back. They walked up one of the two hills at the end of this unnatural ravine, dodging heaps of crooked steel along the way until they reached the dreadful surface. She only knew where east was due to being close enough to the keep for it to serve as a reference point. All they had to do was turn around the moment they surfaced, and keep on moving until they see lightning strike a place one too many times.

 


	5. Ch. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey we're back. Got sidetracked with some things and realized I didn't like where the plot was headed! Rewrote it, but everything should be good now! Updates will resume regularly.

 They were hanging by a thread out here. Provisions were becoming thinner by the hour and the troops had grown hungry. It wasn't the plethora of ground types who they were worried about, those fellows were far from picky eaters. Plenty of them would crush stones and devour them for every meal of the day, but not everyone here had the stomach for swallowing hard boulders. The electric types of their ranks could sustain themselves off the lightning for the most part, but maintaining a healthy relationship with the outliers of their ranks was a big deal when most of these obscure beasts could easily crush a 'mon's head like a berry. So long as food was plentiful, then good tidings were abound. He, a Luxray placed in charge of their pack wouldn't have it any other way.

 There was about two 'n half dozen men to his troop divided among a dozen ground, a dozen electric and some other-typed folk. The former usually happened to be the newest of their troops, and were for the most part mercenaries. He expected to have some causalities by time they reached their far-off destination; miraculously, he only lost two on the way here. One could only hope they would find their way back lest they become kindle for Reshiram's flames, but that was wishful thinking at best – foolish at worst. To become lost in this world meant joining the thousands of hollowed out armors.

 He had known why he was sent dangerously close to Reshiram's fortress yet he had too much respect for their leader to even bring up with his highness. Orders are orders, and without one good reason to put everybody's lives at stake other than an outdated adage he might just consider returning home before things got worse. There was no point in waiting around to starve out here.

 “Sergeant.”

 He was watching the main tent setting up before the voice called from behind. The fellow was smaller than him by a foot. With a thick bone mace, and a helmet fashioned from a skull in addition to ashy breastplate typically supplied to everyone, he was easily identified as a marrowak. The durable, hard-hitting folks like the ground-type were often front liners. For what Luxray was able to gleam from their posture and maintenance of their equipment he seemed like a good sort.

 “There's no need to call me such this far from home.” the lion answered, “Is this about the camp? The sandslash should have everyone dug in by now.”

 The Marrowak glanced towards their cavernous home, the banks they were settled over, and two much smaller shelters placed far apart from each other. The storm wasn't a worry, Luxray's flag helped with that. It was in part a token of their allegiance to the Knight, and their tool to traverse the storm. Lightning would much sooner strike the giant metal rod then be dispersed to the ground by wiring rather than the men marching beneath it. An important task indeed.

 “Have you seen the other-types around? I have no qualms with outsiders, or even mercenaries for that matter, but I had seen them when we set up and now they have gone. I don't dare think they have broken rank; however, they are still somewhere out there. It's already been some time.”

 “Odd, nobody leaves unless I have told them to.” fools, Luxray thought, “But I can't imagine they would've gotten far. Were they doing anything earlier?”

 “A few of my friends spoke of them sitting on the banks, they went, returned, and then left again. I presume they must have found something odd out there as they had these off-looks about them – especially the _grass type_. If it were danger they would have told us, right?”

 “Of course. I trust they would not put our lives on the line, and neither will you. I have no time to coordinate a search, and my men grow weary. Would you mind taking up the perimeter for me? “ the luxary's oily pelt began to bristle, “I can watch you from here, but as soon as you are beyond the hill you will be on your own. It'll only be a short endeavor. If you don't return on the hour I'll assume the worst. Understood?”

 The Marrowak had no clue what his superior entailed by the “worst”, nor did he hope to see it. It seemed simple in his head: walk out, come back and report what he's seen from the other side of the gray hills. Little did he know what he was walking into when he bowed then began his search. The cautious eyes of his leader staring daggers into his back as he climbed to the hill with mace gripped tightly in his hands. The thunder rolling in the night providing little recourse.

* * *

 The storm's powerful lightning struck all with careless abandon, its rain polluted the earth and its wind cut through all. Sometimes it was even said to worsen when the Knight himself became present, whether or not such claims hold true they wouldn't know unless they were to face Zekrom. They haven't yet, but the destruction he leaves is a familiar sight. When there was more glassing than usual, and the ground was covered in hot coals, it means he had been there, but when lightning stuck near one too many times the swords knew it was either him or his men.

 Sometimes it wasn't the most reliable tell. When there are too many tall things standing around the lightning would be more of a startling coincidence than a surefire sign they were about to be in deep trouble. Knowing the difference is what made Virizion the best person the Seer had for these jobs. If she couldn't track them by the scars ripping across the sky then she'd have to rely on their footprints, yet it would've been so easy to do so if the wind hadn't come to soil everything. They had to wait it out till it passed. The prospect alone made Terrakion restless.. He wasn't going to sit behind a broken wall like these two dopes, no, he had other plans. While they were waiting for their break Terrakion stomped his way up the adjacent hill looking for a reason to get himself into some trouble. At least they wouldn't need to draw straws for first watch.

 While the walking bolder was keen to go rolling out into the nearing unknown the others were at an impasse. Virizion had a quiet steel-type on her hands. A swirl of emotions hid themselves behind the master's bagged eyes well hidden by his head which leaned much towards the boring floor. Many things weighed on him such that he lacked the energy to lift his dutiful head high, and his usual warmth was swallowed by a steely coldness. He made little attempt to hide it as who was there to hide it from? He was surrounded by those who reciprocated his trust. Perhaps he was a little too trusting. No amount of perceived friendship can grant the ability to read their companions' minds; they weren't psychic.

 Whereas a bold Terrakion would ask, she wouldn't. There was much for Virizion to question about the world, her leaders, and her orders, yet a thin line called friendship kept her from badgering the very thing she should learn to value more than what was stowed up in her head. If she had a sense of humor she'd compare her personality to the stone wall next to them, but even that was out of the Inquisitor's ballpark. Calling her sense of humor undeveloped would be an insult to anyone who had ever had a laugh in their lives. Still, the hesitation was a very real factor. If any of their years spend together in the Seer's keep had taught her anything it's that her flavoring of concern brought on more trouble than it was meant to resolve – a fact she couldn't be more aware at this moment.

 A storm far, far away from here had been brewing for a long time. The winds were picking up. A patter of tiny grains battered the wall and their armored skins like rain, but the weather here was too cruel to grant them rain. Long before her outsider ears became acquainted to the desolation she once thought it would bring rain some day, and so many times she dejected herself with this patter she's learned to cut out the sound altogether. There was no escape, nothing this world can give anyone to make their stays anymore pleasant, and the her one chance to leave was locked by a seemingly insurmountable task to defeat Zekrom.

 Many under the Seer's command knew bitter defeat and brutal draws, but Vrizion would not be let astray so easily. A chance was good enough for her. Knowing she fought under the side of good was helpful, although grossly romantic. She's felt as if she's done all this before, and maybe she has. When the day somehow comes where she digs through enough books to finally reconnect with her old deity she might consider extending those proverbial bridges to more than just herself. Whether or not she'd get around to bettering herself was a question for the future.

 Was it good enough for Cobalion? He wasn't anyone to praise himself, or laud his goodness. In the event he did maybe he had kept it all somewhere deep behind his armor.

 Her throat was dry with a metallic taste, her nerves and a sense of dread made her mossy hair tingle, but there was time for such later. Against her instincts she stared across to the adjacent warrior whose expression had become as frozen as hers.

 Her mouth moved as terrible boom of thunder and lightning assaulted their senses. They both knew what lightning so close to them meant, if not then its terrible roar was a call to action in of itself. One minute they were ready to hold conversation, the next they sprung to their feet and scoured their surroundings as the small of ozone swept over the earth like a miasma. It would seem as they couldn't have gotten up at a better time as the boom was announced by another from right behind, and with a swift leap they later, were clear of the now crumbled wall.

 They found themselves in the presence of an old friend and someone else. A panting Terrakion stood over the mess he made of the masonry, and the someone crushed below the heaps of stone. Bones broken, their head squashed, what remained of the Marrowak was a bone club protruding from their makeshift grave. Neither Cobalion or Virizion had any doubt they were a warrior under Zekrom's command.

 The moment was short lived. They understood what was about to happen. Terrakion doubled back as his feet and barreled up the hillside, soon flanking him were the Master and Virizion in swift succession. Overhead the storm drummed up another round of lightning which raced the skies the moment they crest the ash-covered hill. For a second the whole world flashed before the swordsmen as they saw what they were pitted against.

 The camp was surrounded a large, crater-like incline with two small tents housing supplies separate from the main camp below where the bottom of the eastern hill had a small recess carved out by the occupies. Large stones and tarps protected it's inhabitants from the outside world. About twenty yards from the center tent was a metal pole standing erect and entangled by yellow-hot, metallic string. It was underneath it's buzzing glow where they saw the only pokemon on duty: a luxray judging by the bits of jet-black fur sticking out from it's armored barding,

 In the seconds following the brief flash there was barely enough time to formulate a plan and for the Luxray to see the three imposing figures looming above their encampment. Fear ripped through him as his golden eyes turned to his allies, beginning the battle with his first and possibly last command. _Run_. An uncoordinated panic swept through his ranks immediately as a flood of pokemon grabbed what they could and rushed outside to meet either their doom or escape. Well over two dozen men had scrambled out into the fray prepared for the worst.

 Cobalion had no time to delay.

 “Virizion, take the stragglers.” he ordered, “Do as you please Terrakion, but leave the Luxray standing.”

 The ranger had no time to question what was so important about this electric cat, but Terrakion couldn't be more happier to be let off his leash.

 While Virizion broke off to the left the remaining two charged down the bank, Terrakion's eyes scanned through the scrambling crowd as he rushed into the thick of the chaos and with Cobalion flanking his charge, they would reach their target in little time. Many pokemon rightly fled from the incoming warriors with those who braved the swordsmen were effortlessly trampled by the swordsmen as they cleaved themselves a route into the screaming horde. While most had decided to flee, three in particular emerged from the crowd: a Rhydon and his two allies wedged themselves between the legendaries, the rock type facing his foes with a dignity the quivering Archeops and Sandslash clearly lacked.

 “Hold them off!” over his line of defenders the voice and glow of the Luxray gathered whoever he could to lead to safety, “Whether you perish or prevail I promise to remember your names!”

 Terrakion hadn't ripped his eyes away from the Luxray for a moment, and why would he? He shouldn't have a problem bulldozing right through the Rhydon but he wasn't quite the unstoppable force he realized the moment he hit the sturdy, stone wall. The enemy endured the hit by shifting his whole weight into the ground, planting his feet into the dirt like bricks in a foundation. Terrakion expected him to fall, but he was the one on the ground when the Ryhdon's heavy fist hammered right into his back. His knees felt like they were about ready to explode, and. Terrakion's knees felt as they were about to explode, and although the attack was a much needed reality check, he didn't have much time to reflect while lying prone across the ground because his assailant was already prepared to finish the job.

 He would've been in for a lot more trouble if he had been flipped onto his back. While the Ryhdon reared up another swing of his fists Terrakion put all he had into stomping his hoofs into the earth. Tremors lashed out from where Terrakion lied which while surely no earthquake, it was the lumbering Rhydon's bane. The Ryhdon's meaty fists shattered the ground next to him, splattering mud everywhere he lodged the creature's hands a foot into the ground leaving the giant open for anything. Terrakion immediately took to the opportunity. Ignoring the pain jolting through his legs Terrakion sprung up and delivered a sacred sword to the rock-type's head, dropping him like a sack.

 While hiss heart beat twice fold while his knees scolded him for daring to do charge stupidly into battle, he took the moment to gather his bearings. It seems those three were all who were bold enough to challenge them, the rest between him and the Luxray were about as cowardly as they come.. They were right for fearing for their lives after seeing the brute effortlessly dispatch what he could only assume was their improvised answer to the Seer's elite.

 As for Cobalion, he had it worse because not only had he tossed himself into the main force of the encampment, but he was a big cobalt target for anyone who felt like throwing themselves into the fray. Whereas Terrakion was pretty well set on getting that cat, he had positioned as close as possible to the entrance of their den. He expected more to be inside, not only where there so little, he didn't even have a chance to swing at any of them before the Ryhdon's two friends descended upon him.

 A hail of stones battered him from behind as a horrible screech boomed from the skies. He turned to find a sandslash in his face and two sets of claws digging into his steel mail. He shook and bucked to no avail, the sandlash already had its claws into him. It wasn't going to let him go easily, nor was the flying type going to make it any easier as a constant shower of stones which began to pelt him from high above. Cobalion was effectively pinned, but this wasn't going to stop him – these two were a walk in a park compared to what he's been up against. It would take many more f lying pellets to put more than a dent into Cobalion, but he could at least cut off the nuisance for now. Even with a giant rodent grappling into him, the steel-type managed to drag himself into their camp while under fire from the rodent, vanishing somewhere under the black canvas covers..

 The Arhceops screeched in rage, but not for long as flying and annoying everyone had made himself much as a target as Cobalion. After blindly firing off a dozen more stones into the canopy in hopes he would hit something he suddenly had his scarce feathers ruffled when a ball of energy about smacked from the skies. Verizion shot the bird while his busy, and cowardice kicked right in for the creature, screaming as it fled across the skies leaving a contrail of discarded feathers. For while her companions faced the Knight's forces she had ran the stretch of the surrounding hill sewing snares out of grass knots all along the southern side, making her way two thirds across the permitted before stopping to take potshots at the Acheops then at anyone who were slowly being funneled to the northeast. With the three defenders gone the remaining forces were free game.

 Cobalion had his hands full of Sandslash and Verizion was content where she was, so Terrakion had been left to his own devices. If wasn't clear by him chasing after him from the very beginning, he followed the last of the Luxray's men in a bid to draw him out from his pack. Cleave after cleave he preyed on his enemies' backs as he was simply too slow to catch the herd. The fastest of the fleeing masses were the first to clamber over the hill to safety, but the Luxray and many others lagged behind. Verizion's bombardment and the behemoth chasing down their tails did a number on their morale. Soon even their commander would be dragged out only for that soon to become a now.

 Luxray kicked up dirt as he spun mid sprint, the rest of his men screaming past him in a mayhem. He knew he had lost. He would not make it out of here alive, but in spite of all this – perhaps craving a good end to cap off his story, he decided to face Terrakion head on. The rock type was careening towards another foe, but this time there was nothing between him and his enemy. Terrakion was about to cut this fool down.

 The lion unsheathed his claws and took to the prowl. The fact he was about to be ungraciously mowed down came to a bit of an advantage, as without too much difficulty the feline was able to spring out of the way, dodging the rock-type's deadly horns. For the split second Terrakion was preparing to rear back for eventual second charge the Luxray leaped again on his hind legs, not away from them, but right onto the rock-type's back. His claws immediately sunk deeply and the _electric_ attack's initial shock jolted through the warrior's body.

 Merely tossing the cat did nothing than come to the mild amusement of any cruel onlooker, the scarring for every trying to unhook it's claws would be terrible, those constant jolts ebbing from the creature's fingers were eating away at his stamina by the minute. He'd start screaming he if he wouldn't look so pathetic doing so; however, if the Luxray was a fighter of any merit then this as most assuredly the least worst of it. More likely than not something worse was coming, and his predictions became true when those jolts became an ever-growing hum coming from the feline. He was charging for another attack!

 Not one to be cooked on the inside by a giant cat Terrakion had weighed his options. Knocking him around wasn't doing so good, wild movements seemed they were just going to dig those claws into him deeper, so if he had something quite massive he could use to scare him into leaping away then a high-stakes game of chicken was better than anything else he had. So he looked across the barren crater now covered in defeated foes and found one of two destinations. The two smaller tents with all their rickety stone and rods keeping them afloat was appealing, but it did no look as nearly intimidating as he hoped. Heading straight first into their main tent could either send him straight into a stone wall or right into Cobalion, both of who were matched in their stubbornness.

 From afar it looked like Terrakion was carrying a giant lantern on his back, but the growing ball of golden energy had to be none other than the Luxray. Aside from the very blatant glow was hum louder than the wind such that Virizion could hear it from afar. Goodness knows what Terrakion was doing. He's bound to have some sort of plan because he was headed right towards where Cobalion went, probably for help with his cat problem. For a minute she debated flinging an energy ball at the Luxray; however, it would be quite difficult to hit a flailing target atop of a speeding platform. Given the fleeing pack had thinned considerably she eventually decided best to follow Terrakion's stead in the event he came down with something more than just temporary paralysis, yet as she began down the hill Terrakion had vanished into the shelter at the crater's center and the following crack scared the daylights out of her.

 Inside the camp was already a wreck after having a tussle with the sandslash; bedding was turned over, weapon racks obliterated by the two tossing themselves around in a back and forth, and the back wall had nearly crumbled from the ground type callously throwing earth-shattering moves amok. Cobalion was standing over what was left of the sandlash when he heard what was coming and thought wisely to get as far away as possible from the open door. It was then when Terrakion slammed inside. The glowing mass that had gathered on his back was back was flung alongside him, and Luxray, who would've easily leaped right off had his claws so deeply rung into Terakion he couldn't simply let go.

 Both the Luxray and the shale wall broke immediately. The light from the electric-type's man sputtered out in an instant, all that Luxray could muster afterwards as a pathetic squeal. The two swordsmen were silent watching him crumble off the wall into a barely breathing heap. The victory was decisive. They would later find twenty foes had been slain in total and their commander had been captured, albeit barely breathing.

* * *

 

 The fact Luxray had put up a decent fight alone would've caught their eyes and when they got a better look at the semi-conscious lump they were especially intrigued. The dim lighting wasn't ideal conditions for doing detective work, nor were the cramped conditions of the wrecked tent after they've managed to get the three of them in there; however, with the suspect backed against the wall it was going to make looking at him and coaxing out answers much easier. Before they can move onto interrogating him the three could very easily see the Luxrays armor was unique among the crude and misshapen mails. It was form fit, tailored made to wrap around the feline like a second skin. The metal happened to be painted or died the very same color as his pelt using craftsmanship beyond their grasp. While each had silently contemplated on what to possibly do with a pokemon of such seeming importance, each of them knew they couldn't just let whoever this person was go.

 Thankfully before Terrakion could think of anything stupid like taking one of the bed frames and flattening the sucker the swords decided to assess their situation.

 “I don't think he'll be getting up soon.” Cobalion breathed a sigh,“Good work on keeping them locked down, Virizion. How many do you estimate have gotten away?”

 “About seven.” she stared at the ceiling trying to summon up an imaginary tally. “I don't know who this electric type is, but he did lead plenty of those escapees out. Whether they will make it home through the storm in the condition they left in is a question yet to be answered.”

 “Did you happen to take a body count from up there?” terrakion grumbled

 “Wouldn't know.” she shrugged “I was so busy keeping you from being swarmed it didn't occur to me I might need to pat you on the back afterwards. Of course, if it's so important then why haven't you done it?”

 “I was just asking!” with no one else to look to, Terrakion turned his sights to the only person who should know how many people and would know why said people were here. Before Cobalion could make a move, the Rock-type's massive hoof stretched forward.

 One good shake was all it took to put the combatant back into the reality. The Luxray's bulging, ringed eyes popped open and he quickly treated his three captors to a snarl and a scowl. He still looked ready for a fight despite being faced with three of the people who had easily beaten him along with his men to a pulp. Now that Terrakion had forced them into talking, he reiterated himself.

 “It might be a good idea to tell us why you came all the way here to get your arses kicked. If this was all some plan to get us to pay a visit then congrats, you've just gotten your friends killed.”

 “You have no respect!” he snapped

 “Yeah, I know.”

 “Then why should you care? You beat us, we're done for, but so long as I still draw my breath I will not break. I see no point in this, I won't converse with the likes of you.”

 If one thing, he sure had spunk for talking back to them. The Luxray knew full well there was no turning now, so the next best thing he could do, and the same thing any one of the swordsmen would do, was hope to spend what could be the last moments of their lives never giving in. He was getting on Terrakion's nerves, and everyone knew it.

 “Fine. You can talk to me or whoever the Seer's got waiting for you back there. It's up to you, I really don't care.” looked over the shoulders and gave Cobalion a long look. This was the plan, right? Cobalion's nod confirmed such. “She probably just wants to know what's floating around in your dome. I don't know what she does but she could just decide to throw you away like garbage if you're gonna act like it.”

 “If a permanent stay awaits me, then what difference will this conversation all make? I find it more offensive that you think I'm not onto your _White Devil's_ tricks. I know what I'm getting into and scum like you will not intimidate me!”

 Cobalion was much faster this time as he knew Terrakion had been reaching a boiling point. Before this field interrogation could become a beating he put a hoof on the rock-type's shoulders, and showed him the way out. There was little choice for the Rock-type than to step away, huffing and hawing about how much he wanted to beat the idiot to a pulp. They watched as he hoofed outside, vanishing into the crater presumably to take a body count. If in some chance Terrakion had swapped positions with the captive this would likely go down the same way with a loyal, and furious Terrakion spitting in the face of whoever happened to catch the blathering oaf. They couldn't exactly blame him for starting this little conversation, Virizion had just wished he'd keep a cool head.

 Now with the brute outside it was left to either of them to take charge. Virizion was the most knowledgeable of them all; although they have limited documents on the internal workings of the Zekrom's kingdom there was no way she would face an enemy she didn't understand. Of the many ranks under Zekrom's order there were two most encountered in the field: flag-bearers and Sergeants. Though the latter of whom were simply in charge of their bands, the former were selected primarily for their loyalty. Since these roving bands required means to prevent the storm from shocking the lot of them, the “flagpoles” were no different from each other, but this Luxray's armor suggested greater importance. Other than that he did not appoint powerful generals unless necessary, so Zekrom and whoever else were closest to him at the time, was solely to blame for this world's troubles.

 “You must be one of his Flag Bearers. I'm sure you'll be stripped of that rank if ever you return. Having to fail your _knightly friend_ must feel terrible, does it?” her eyes were shut remembering the battle but a short while ago, “Whatever he might happen to do to you must be no worse than what our Seer is bound to do to you. Tell me what do you have to lose by telling us your intentions for coming here? Your pride? Haven't you lost that already?”

 “You know more than I expected. Does that make you special?” Luxray retorted, “I expect to be tormented for information she would already know, then cast to the storm once I've exposed everything, so If I told you what I know now then nothing will change - you'll just hear about it later.”

 “Do you care to tell what it is? Because I know you're holding onto something now.”

 Like that he had walked into her trap. She didn't think it would ever work since the Luxray seemed as if all he could do was bark and hurl insults at everything, so the onus was on him to carry their conversation forward if he even wanted to in the first place. Whether or not he would expose anything has yet to be seen as they each eyed their captive with nervous anticipation. The Luxray wriggled in place till he landed over the dirt on his stomach. Somewhere behind the two they could hear Terrakion stumbling back to the group, his imposing footsteps heard for miles, and just as he rock-type entered their chamber the Luxray divulged everything.

 “Humor me for a minute, what has your darling Reshiram told you about all of this, huh? She's a liar, she's a witch. The very reason we're having this conversation is because of Reshiram, and we will never leave this place so long as she breathes!” 

 Tensions were high. Terrakion had begun to up a storm from his nostrils and Cobalion gave everyone the same erie silence as the way here, thus it had left Virizion as the only person willing to listen.

 “Do you have a shred of evidence to back any of this up?”

 “What do you think I've come here to do? I could not speak my plan to my friends, but now that they are assuredly gone -” the creature's furious, ringed eyes softened when a sigh swept through his fangs, “never mind I have nothing I could prove to you right now, part of it was to get close as possible to draw a small group and then devise how we'd infiltrate from there.”

 “And what do you think happened? I drew people out, and now I'm going to be tortured by the very thing under who's flag you foolish-”

 It was a surprise he had lasted in the presence of Terrakion for as long as he did. Without warning, yet to nobody's surprise, the heavy hooves of Terrakion lifted the nearest thing that so happened to be a bed frame off the ground and smashed it into chunks over the Luxray's head. It put a dent into his armor, sent splinters everywhere like rain, then put the feline to sleep under the pile of broken twigs. Afterwards they would all want to chew him out for behaving so callously, but at this moment in time they all breathed in relief.

 “He won't be leaving anymore, good job.” Cobalion hadn't smiled for a second as he scanned over the wreck, “Care to time him up?”

 Virizion stepped over, taking the liberty of rolling the unconscious creature out of the mess then tying the creature's limbs together with vines. Nothing too fancy, but a pain for anyone who was hoping to burn their ropes with electricity. Miraculously he was still breathing when he lumped him out into the clearing, he was just somehow in worse condition than before. She would not run the risk of patching their hostage up given how much of a fight he put up against Terrakion, so he was kept the way he was with an egregious dent in his helm. Cobalion walked off to retrieve the“flag” – the long pole at crater's center then coming back whilst effortlessly carrying the thing between his teeth. As none were too much of a fan of Terrakion's work he simply hung himself back.

 “I always wondered how effective these things are” he dropped the flag before speaking “I'll have to find out myself. I'll be taking the Luxray back, you and Terrakion will remain to see if anyone else comes and are to report your findings later.”

 “Sure your back can take it, old man?”

 Cobalion's eyes shot him a stern gaze. The master had good reason to head out alone, and it was the pile of broken things Terrakion had used to beat this source of information into deadly submission. Terrakion was reckless, a quality Cobalion didn't want to carry a back-talking cat on his shoulders. Surely it was a jest buy they all understood Terrakion's suggestion wasn't entirely insincere; nevertheless, their master's word was the law out in these wastes. Fortunately he didn't have to invoke his authority because Terrakion quickly submitted.

 Lifting up the flag in his teeth at the same time gripping the Luxray's bindings, it was astounding he managed to carry both burdens but the old man carried on with only a slight limp to his strong stead. When he vanished over the surrounding hill this left a disgruntled Terrakion and perplexed ranger to their thoughts. This place became a mess, all around the hill lied the remains of several pokemon who faced the bad end of many sacred swords. The rocky alcove received the worst of it where dozens of men who were sleeping minutes before came rushing out of there, trampling over everything they could to take up the stead with their commander to a hill lined with snares and other deathtraps of a grassy variety. Those who followed in their leader's step to the furthers bank form Virizion were only going to make it so far out there in the brutal world. To them, running out ill-equipped to deal with the storm's worse were better odds than facing either one of the Seer's best.

 She had it the best by hanging back, to even hurt Cobalion it meant they had to get past his thick, thick armor, but Terakion had little to defend himself and it showed. Several scars where claws made their mark were carved into his back and several other bruises smashed against the upper portion of his body. The rest were negligible scuffs. They were all acquainted with basic medicine, but she was the only one fully trained in healing. He seemed a bit occupied; none the less, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

 “Need help with that?”

 She'll assume his grunting meant “no”.

 “Then don't come crying to me later.”

 She couldn't stand to see him like this. If he didn't want to accept help it was his own problem. It was usual rule of thumb when for any practitioner of medicine that people commonly refused treatment from an opposing type, likely something to do in regards to some basic instincts. She had not felt like she was playing her part in being a legendary, but they were supposed to be, just nothing on the lines of either side of this world. They were still somewhat durable, semi-immortal, most assumptions beyond those two tended to fall apart after further investigation. It was a bit hard to test these claims to immortality when they were rightfully unwilling to try. What it usually meant was that Terrakion could tough most of his wounds like this, they'd simply on their own after some time. By no means was he indestructible or else she wouldn't have to put up with him for this long.

 While Terrakion had been content to mindlessly shift through the rubble, her head was elsewhere. She was sure she was headed into some trap, it sure wouldn't be the first time she had poked her nose into business she had no right to be, but falling out of line was a very real threat to her and her dignity. She wouldn't ever compare herself to her filthy colleague, yet looking what he had possibly just gotten away with reminded her of how little people would actually care about her being an inquisitive stuck-up. Why should she even bother being on everyone's good sides anyways?

 Her and Terrakion needed to talk, about what the Luxray said and about their Master.

 


End file.
